


Stalag V-A

by RedwoodTators



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Lieb is not an ass and I will fight anyone who says otherwise, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prisoner of War, Rated For Violence, Webster Whump, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:47:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25946818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedwoodTators/pseuds/RedwoodTators
Summary: On his way to the aid station to get stitched up after getting hit by shrapnel, David Webster's ambulance gets hit by a German patrol. He is quickly taken behind the line to Stalag V-A, a POW camp in Ludwigsberg, Germany.Easy thinks he's dead.
Relationships: David Kenyon Webster & Easy Company, Joseph Liebgott/David Kenyon Webster
Comments: 33
Kudos: 115





	1. October 5th, 1944, Arnhem, Netherlands

**Author's Note:**

> No disrespect intended towards any service member in Easy or any POW.

David Webster grimaced in the back of the Jeep. His leg was aching and all the swerving and bouncing from the potholes littering the road were not helping. The sharp tang of blood was in the air, most of it not his own. He grunted as he was jostled by another pothole, and the private from Fox Company next to him moaned in agony. 

Webster was the most well-off of the wounded men in the Jeep, as the shrapnel had mostly just winged him, leaving a quite long, but fairly shallow, wound. There was really only one larger piece deeper in his leg that the Doc was worried about. Doc Roe said it would probably just be quick stitches and then he’d be back with the company. Webster hoped he was right. It was a long gash on his leg and it really hurt to put weight on it.

The two other privates with him, both from Fox, had much more serious wounds. He tried not to look at the leg next to him hanging on by the muscle.

“Hold on,” shouted the Private driving the jeep, “the aid station is just up around the corner!”

Webster’s neighbor moaned again, and grabbed for his hand. He leaned over to try and soothe him, gripping his hand tightly, when he heard a familiar high pitched whine in the air over the roar of the jeep. He turned to yell at the driver to warn him about the incoming artillery, when the world first went white, then dark.

Webster blinked, trying to focus on the two green fuzzy shapes, ears ringing loudly. After a few seconds of rapid blinking, the shapes came into focus. They were very much not the shapes he was hoping to see. Krauts. The taller of the two trained his gun on Web, while the smaller frisked him and relieved him of his sidearm and knife. David blinked past him, to see the shell of the burnt out jeep and two bodies. The boys from Fox would not make it to the aid station. 

Another two Germans were patting down the driver a few yards away, who looked rattled but unharmed. The bitter taste of fear filled David’s mouth. He really hoped they weren’t about to be executed by the Krauts.

As the ringing in his ears started to subside, he could focus on what the Germans were saying. “ _Stupid!”_ The taller one was saying in German, _“The stupid Americans did not mark their ambulance! It was supposed to be a Colonel’s truck. Ah well, nothing to be done now. We cannot wait here. Schedl, patch up this one’s leg so we can get out of here before any more show up. We must return to the company. Herschel, tell them they will come with us or be shot. Not what we came for, but we will not be empty-handed.”_

As David’s brain came back online, he quickly made the decision to not let on that he knew German if he could help it. It could only be helpful if the Krauts didn’t think he could understand them.

The shorter one, Schedl, poured some sulfa in David’s sluggishly bleeding leg and tied a tight bandage around it as Herschel told the two Americans to get moving. He was hauled off the ground and shoved into the group of Germans.

They were marched off the road into the woods at gunpoint, the other private supporting David. The two privates both knew their best chance of survival was to cooperate until they saw an opportunity. Being outnumbered 8 to 2 was not promising, and there were no signs of Allied forces anywhere. 

Webster bitterly wished he was as brave as Gaurnere or Liebgott. He doubted either of those two men would have let themselves be captured without a fight. Meanwhile, David was too afraid to even whisper to the other private. He knew he was being a coward, yet he still could not bring himself to do anything other than comply with the sharp German orders. 

All too soon, they arrived at another road and were stuffed in the back of a truck, then carted off to a processing camp.

Webster’s forehead was wet with sweat from the pain of his leg by the time they got to the camp. The camp was fairly small, especially compared to some of the Allied camps he had seen. It was lined by barbed wire fencing with guards surrounding it. Krauts with dogs patrolled the edges. Even if a man could get past the fence and the guards, he would be behind the line, alone, in German occupied territory. There was nowhere to go. 

All around him he heard orders being shouted, first in German, then in English and French. He was grabbed and shuffled off in one direction, while the other private was shoved in a different direction. They exchanged a last glance, both doubting they would ever see each other again. David wished he knew the private’s name. For the first time since walking through the gates at Toccoa, he was truly alone. He was afraid.

Webster was herded towards a tent with a red cross on the roof. Well, he thought, at least it looks like his leg will get looked at after all. He was shoved down unceremoniously on a cot by his escort who snarled at him in heavily accented english,“Stay!” His escort called the doctor over. “ _His leg,_ ” he said, “ _he was hit by shrapnel. Should be an easy fix.”_ The doctor hurried over to examine Web’s leg. 

“This will hurt,” the doctor warned him, before offering him a bottle of vodka to swig and a cloth to bite down on.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ 

When the ordeal was finally over, and Webster was stitched up and on a pair of crutches, he was marched to yet another tent. The Krauts’ communication skills left much to be desired. His escort clearly didn’t know much english, and communicated in mostly grunts and shoves. 

Inside the next tent, there were three guards, and a table with two Germans sitting behind it. They had books open in front of them, with more stacked behind them.

“Sit,” one ordered Webster, after a quick glance at the flag patch on his arm. David limped forwards and sat. There was no point in arguing. “Tags, please.” The German held out his hand. David lifted his hand towards his neck, then hesitated. If they took them and shot him, nobody would ever know what had happened to him. “They will be returned to you,” the German promised. “We are not monsters.” David doubted this. “You will be treated with dignity. Tags, please.”

There was still no point in arguing. Either he would be shot or he wouldn’t. Even the Germans probably wouldn’t fix a man’s leg only to shoot him. David pulled his dogtags over his head and handed them over to the German. 

“Name, rank, division, and serial number please,” the first demanded as he handed the tags off to his partner.

David swallowed. This was it. This was exactly how it went in the stories that floated around camp sometimes. He was a prisoner of war now. “Webster, David Kenyon, Private First Class, Easy Company, Second Battalion, 506th Infantry Regiment of the 101st Airborne Division, US Army, serial number 12 261 521”

The Germans nodded and scribbled it down in their book, before handing David his dog tags back. The familiar weight and the coolness of the tags settled him somewhat. He knew that he would probably have to repeat his name and serial number many times in the coming months. Although, being a private, it was unlikely the Krauts would interrogate him too much. He was far too low on the rung to be privy to many interesting details.

“Now, Private Webster, here is what is going to happen,” said the man, leaning forwards and staring intently into Web’s eyes. “You will remain here for a few days to allow the doctor to make sure your leg will heal. We do not want your leg getting infected, after all. You will be quiet and obedient and do what you are ordered. While you are here you will stay in the building we put you in until allowed out. You will not make any trouble. Then you will be sent to one of our prisoner camps. You will not be harmed as long as you do not give us cause. You will be fed and housed and if you are quiet and obedient, you may be picked to be released in a prisoner transfer. If you make too much trouble, you will be shot. We do not wish to shoot you, but we will, so please do not give us cause. Is that understood, Private Webster of Easy Company?”

Shut up, keep his head down, and do what he’s told. David was a paratrooper. He spent three months training to do just that at Toccoa. “Yes sir. I understand.”

“Good to hear.” The German switched to his native language before addressing one of the guards. “ _Take him to barracks 5. He will be moved to Stalag V-A in Ludwigsburg as soon as the doctor approves it. Allow him to keep the crutches until then.”_

Ludwigsburg. Germany. Further behind the lines. Further from Easy. Further from everything.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

October 6th, 1944, Arnhem, Netherlands

Joe Liebgott sat against a haystack, watching Talbert pet his dog. His neck wound itched, and he longed to pick at it. But Doc Roe had eyes like a hawk, and Joe knew that the second he touched the bandage, Roe would be there, scolding him in his soft voice. For such a quiet guy, the Doc was strangely intimidating. Liebgott shifted, trying to get more comfortable. Everyone was quiet after the battle yesterday. He wondered if they’d be moving on soon. The barn wasn’t the worst place they’d been in, but a shower would be welcome.

A flurry of movement caught his eye. Liebgott reached for his gun, ready to move, before he realized it was just Captain Nixon, looking unhappy but not unduly worried. Joe relaxed, but kept his gun close in case they were called to go shoot more Krauts again. His neck tickled, and he reached for the bandage before he thought better of it and lowered his hand.

Captain Nixon hurried over to Captain Winters and whispered in his ear. Joe watched Winters’ head shoot up at whatever news Nixon was bringing. Winters stared at Nixon, disbelief plain on his face. That was surprising. Joe had always found it kinda hard to read the captain. He usually looked so serious. The captain turned to look at Hoobler, who was too busy getting into a tin of spam to notice, and then met Joe’s eyes. He did not look happy. Winters turned back to Nixon and whispered a bit more. Joe wondered what they were talking about, but didn’t have to think on it long, as Winters called to get the men’s attention.

“Listen up guys, I’ve got some news. Captain Nixon contacted our aid station this morning to get us some medical supplies and check on Private Webster. As I’m sure you all have heard, Private Webster was wounded yesterday in the leg. It wasn’t too bad but he was sent off to get stitches.” Winters paused a moment, collecting his thoughts. Liebgott glanced at Hoobler. He and Webster were good friends, and Hoob looked confused and a little worried. “It seems that the Germans decided not to follow the Geneva Convention, and hit the ambulance carrying Webster and two other privates from Fox Company with an artillery round. There were no survivors.”

“Web’s dead?” Luz gasped from Hoob’s side. Luz was fairly good friends with Webster too.

Winters glanced at Luz, then back at Hoobler. “Officially he’s listed as missing in action. The Jeep was… badly burned.” Luz gaped at the officers as Winters continued. “There’s already a lot of rumors about this spreading. Many of which aren’t true. I wanted you guys to hear about it from me.”

Joe couldn’t believe it. Webster was dead. The fucking Krauts shot an ambulance full of good wounded men and killed Webster. Goddamned Webster. For a brief, shameful moment, Joe hated Webster for getting himself killed. He was a good soldier. Kept his head down and his gun up and was smart. He should’ve known better than to get himself shot in the first place.

Joe and Web butted heads a lot, but he had to admit to himself that he was fond of him. Once you got past the prissy college attitude, Web wasn’t too bad. He was just a lot of fun to poke at. But now he was gone. Just like so many other good Toccoa men.

Joe looked at Hoob and his anger was washed away by sorrow and renewed fury against the Krauts. Poor Hoob was pale and frozen. First he and Web had lost Klink, and then Web up and died. Luz had his hand on Hoob’s shoulder. Everyone knew Hoob and Web were real close friends. Joe had to look away. He didn’t like watching men grieve.

Winters gave the men a moment to process the news. “We’ll be coming off the line this afternoon as soon as we’re relieved. We’re headed to Holland.”

Fucking Krauts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to read this fic but I couldn't find one so I had to write it myself and I have already written much more than I expected. Next chapter will be uploaded in a few days, I just want to stay a few chapters ahead.


	2. October 8th, 1944, Nijmegen Nazi field Camp

October 8th, 1944, Nijmegen Nazi field Camp

David Webster sat on a stool in a Nazi medic tent. He had been in a Nazi camp for three days now and he still couldn’t quite believe it.

He hadn’t seen the private from Fox Company again since they had been separated on arrival, but he had been joined by a couple of other injured men, all British. They had, generously, been provided a tent inside a fenced pen. There were no beds, but there was clean straw and the tent was warm enough despite autumn beginning. They had largely been left alone, and all but ignored.

David was perceptive, however, and he could tell that today would be different.

It had started around dawn, when he had been woken up by raised french voices. More allied prisoners had arrived, and were being marched through camp to their pen. Shortly after that, he and the other injured men had been pulled out and were led to the medic tent, where Web waited to get his leg looked at.

The doctor this time was a different one, and less compassionate than the last one.

Webster grunted as the doc grabbed his leg and roughly pushed the pant leg up. It hurt, and he glared at the doctor, but looked away once the guard turned his gun over in his hand, a clear warning.

David’s leg had healed up well enough, and if he hadn’t gotten captured, he would’ve already been sent back to his unit. Instead, it seemed, from listening in on what the doctor was saying, he was getting sent to a different Nazi camp. Probably further into Germany.

When he was cleared by the doctor, he was sent back outside. While he had been in the med tent, many more prisoners had arrived. It was chaotic, but well organized, and even better guarded, chaos. He was pushed into a line, and with the aid of guards with nightsticks and dogs, they were herded down the road.

Webster kept his head down, trying to not draw any attention towards himself. A few men had tried running, and were quickly shot in the back. The rest of them were subdued by the show of force. They were getting prodded along with the butts of guns and batons and Web didn’t really want to get hit.

Before too long, they arrived at a train stopped on the tracks and were ordered in. Again, there was some protest, but they were strongly encouraged to comply.

David took one last look around him before he was shoved up into a car. This camp had probably been his last chance for escape, as miniscule as it clearly was. The bitter tang of fear was back, as he was shipped off deeper into Germany, further away from his unit and all he knew.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ 

October 9th, 1944, Stalag V-A Camp, Ludwigsburg, Germany 

It was early in the morning when the train stopped. It had been a long, slow ride, with many stops. The boxcars had been crowded, not cramped, and Webster was more than ready to get off by the time they reached the last stop. After the train had started moving, they had tried the door but found it chained too tightly to open more than a few inches. The mood of the men was subdued after that, and most of them, being soldiers, used the downtime to sleep.

Upon arrival, the camp looked about what Webster had expected. Two layers of tall, brutal, barbed wire fences, with wooden guardposts at regular intervals. Both brick and log cabin bunkhouses were arranged in neat rows. And armed guards. Everywhere. 

With typical German efficiency, the men were herded off the boxcars in groups to be processed. To David’s sorrow, each man was given a close shave. He understood why, but it was just another loss of his tattered dignity. When he was through with the intake, and his leg looked at one last time, David was finally assigned a bunkhouse, and pushed in its direction. 

Webster made his way towards his new home, until either the war ended or he was traded. His eyes flitted around as he took careful stock of his surroundings without drawing attention to himself. The camp was mostly dirt, with sparse tough grass doing its best to grow. The ground, thankfully, was hard rather than sandy beneath his feet. The only shade was that provided by the buildings. It stunk of unwashed men, not dissimilar to the army camps he was used to. He noticed with surprise a group of men kicking a soccer ball around. Other residents who were sitting against a building watching his group march through the camp looked tired and hungry.

His group stopped at two bunkhouses before his name was called at the third. He was assigned to a log house. Just looking at it, he could see it would be cold and drafty in the coming months. A guard shoved him through the doorway. David had only been a prisoner for a few days and he was already sick of all the shoving the Krauts seemed to be so fond of.

“Hello there,” a British voice came from one of the bunks that lined the wall. “Sergeant Robert Lowery, British infantry, at your service.”

“Private David Webster, American paratrooper.” David blinked as his eyes adjusted. The space was fairly tight quarters, with bunks along both walls, and a small dusty window at the end. Light shined through many small holes and cracks in the walls.

“A paratrooper! How interesting. I think you’re the first we’ve had here.” Lowery gestured at the room with his arm. “Welcome to loghouse _neun_. These four beds are open so take your pick. I recommend the top bunk. Sometimes there’s rats.”

Webster took his advice, and placed his assigned blanket and change of clothes on the top bunk. He had been allowed to keep his unit jacket and clothes, which he was very grateful for. He wasn’t sure why; maybe it made it easier to tell the prisoners apart. Either way it was a small comfort, having something so familiar in such an unfamiliar place.

“So, Webster, have you been in Europe long?”

Webster turned to size up Lowery. He was a tall man with a sharp nose and red hair. “Jumped into Normandy on D-Day.”

“Ah, D-Day.” Lowery nodded sagely.” I’ve heard much about it but I did not have the fortune of partaking in that battle. I’ve been here since a month before then.”

David was aghast. “You’ve been here that long?”

Lowery smiled bitterly. “One of the longest guests here, I’m afraid. I’m hoping to be exchanged next time the opportunity arises. The Germans tend to go by seniority. Bless their orderly and logical ways.” Lowery jumped off the bunk, landing in front of Webster. “On that bright and happy note, allow me to show you around the camp.”

Web’s lodgings, such as they were, were located near the middle of the camp, not too far from the mess tent. The camp was split into two halves, with the mess tent, showers, and a small medical tent in the middle. The corners each had brick buildings, which Lowery told him were off limits to the prisoners. There were currently 18 cabins, with room to build more, in straight rows. The guard towers had good long sightlines, and David could see they were staffed with rifles, and more than a few also had machine guns. 

“As you can see the Germans like to keep the camp neat and orderly. We are in cabin _neun,_ and group _drei_ , which is nine and three respectively. That is mainly for meals, of which there are usually two, and muster, which is also twice daily. Once in the morning and then before curfew. Showers as well, usually once a week, unless there’s water rationing. There’s often rationing. The latrines are here, near the back fence, thankfully down wind. Do not touch the fence, it makes the Germans nervous. And when they are nervous they like to shoot. We are usually left to our own devices here, except when they need labor. We finished working the fields a few weeks ago. Honestly, it’s been quite boring since then

David nodded, taking it all in. “So we just, what, sit around and wait?”

Lowery shrugged. “Sometimes we get extra food from the Red Cross, along with cigarettes, books and footballs. Sorry, _soccer_ balls. But yes, mostly waiting.” He gestured towards a group of men, where raised voices were shouting in french. “And fighting, of course. As long as it’s small, the Germans allow it. A few weeks ago, a larger group started getting a bit too rough and the Germans took offence to that. The survivors were made to dig the graves.”

Lowery snorted bitterly at the look of horror on David’s face. “It is not as bad as it sounds. Don’t do anything stupid and you will be fine.”

Less than a week in, Webster saw his first casualty. The man was Belgian, loud and angry. He picked fights with anyone he could. He glared at the guards and prowled the camp. From the way the man stalked along the fenceline, David could tell that it wasn’t likely the man would settle down any time soon. He just didn’t think the man would be dumb enough to antagonize the Krauts. 

David was sitting against cabin _neun_ , staring at nothing. He was trying to imagine where Easy was at, when the Belgian came storming past him. David followed him with his eyes, watching as he walked past a Kraut guard. The Belgian didn’t even touch him, just spat at his feet and kept walking. David flinched at the sharp noise of the gun. The Kraut had just calmly shot him in the back of the head. He stared as the bright red blood slowly pooled around the Belgian’s head.

“You!” the Kraut said, sharply pointing at David, “Move this.”

David swallowed thickly before getting up and walking over to the body, one eye on the German’s gun. The guard nodded sharply towards the guardhouse at the gate and David started dragging the man by his feet. He had only managed a handful of yards when the guard called over another prisoner to help him. The two prisoners carried the large heavy body over to a cart sitting outside the brick gatehouse and heaved him into it. Another guard came out and quietly conferred with the first, before grabbing the back of David’s jacket.

“You dig. Follow me. Run and die.”

David nodded his understanding, before pulling the cart behind him and out the gate. There was no point in running. They were surrounded by farmland. As Lowery had said, the final harvest was a few weeks ago. There was nothing to use as cover if he tried to run. He would not get far, even if he wasn’t who knows where in Germany.

The guard led him over to the side of the fence and pointed at the ground. David started digging. Despite being mid October, the ground wasn’t frozen, at least not in the afternoon. He wondered if somewhere, his company was digging as well. David would rather dig a dozen foxholes with the men instead of a single grave in Germany.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

David sat against the wall outside his cabin. He often sat there, where the building provided some relief from the wind. It was cold outside, though not freezing, but he couldn’t be in the cabin any longer. There were a few men some ways in front of him, talking in a huddled group, but Web paid them no mind. He just stared unseeing into the lightly swirling snow. 

“Webster?” Lowery crouched next to him. “Alright?”

David didn’t respond. It had been only a few weeks or so, he thought, but the camp was already weighing heavy on him. The boredom, the confinement, the captivity, the fear, and the already ever present hunger was the only thing left. He no longer felt like he was real. He was just existing instead of living.

Lowery sighed, and settled in next to him. “Always the same. Now a spark of hope flashes up, then a sea of despair rages, and always pain; always pain, always despair, and always the same.”

The cadence of his words jolted David out of his stupor and he blinked and looked at Lowery. “Tolstoy?”

Lowery grinned at him. “Knew there was something I liked about you. Come on, Web. I swindled a book off an illiterate Pole who doesn’t yet know how valuable they are here. Let’s see if we can expand the vocabulary of the Frenchmen in our cabin.”

David smiled back and took the offered hand.

David liked Lowery. The man reminded him somewhat of Captain Winters, both in looks and demeanor, except Lowery had a sense of humor. David never thought he’d be laughing in a German prisoner of war camp, but Lowery knew how to tell stories. He was also a bit like Luz, in the way he could take everyone’s mind off their situation and morale up. It was amazing, really, David thought, how the man could be here in this camp for so long while still keeping his spirits up. 

None of that stopped Lowery from getting sick two weeks later.

The cold air and meagre rations had taken a toll on Lowery but it was the three days of near constant freezing rain that sealed the deal. Lowery had caught pneumonia, and the medical tent was not equipped for all the cases that popped up at once. The sick men were quarantined together in a cabin, and of the ten that went in, only three came out.

David mourned briefly, and felt no guilt snatching Lowery’s spare socks off his bunk. He was cold and hungry.


	3. November 10th, 1944, Stalag V-A POW Camp, Ludwigsberg, Germany

November 10th, Stalag V-A, Ludwigsberg, Germany

David was cold and hungry. Although it had only been about a month since he arrived, he had already lost count of the days. There was nothing that marked the passage of time. The only thing that broke up the monotonous routine when new prisoners were shuffled in. They brought news of the war and of home. It was their only source of information from the world outside their camp.

The new guys were always very popular at first, and often more than willing to talk. But once the stories ran out, and the ever-present boredom and hunger started setting in, tempers flared. The men got frustrated, and the men fought.

David tried his best to stay out of people’s way. He had no desire to get involved, and he would rather stick with men in his cabin, where the hierarchy was already established, than play power games with men he could barely even communicate with.

The best way to be left alone was to try to never start a fight, but be willing to end it. To back down too easily was to get marked as an easy target.

The roughest, dirtiest fight Webster got into happened a week after Lowery’s death. David was tired, hungry, and in a foul mood. Without Lowery to help watch his back, he was hesitant about drawing too much attention to himself and was heading back to his cabin after eating the insufficient dinner they had been provided.

There was a man inside he didn’t recognize, in the process of pulling Web’s thin blanket off his bunk. He was already holding blankets taken from the other beds. This winter was going to be harsh enough as it was; they wouldn’t be able to stand losing their blankets. 

Webster quickly launched himself at the interloper. Web took him to the floor by grabbing at his waist. They pushed and hit at each other, banging into bedposts and each trying to get the blankets without ripping them. The other man got the upper hand when he elbowed David hard in the face. The man scrambled up and made a break for the door, with David lunging at his legs to bring him down. He got kicked hard in the chest, knocking the wind out of him.

The crashes and shouts from the fight drew the attention of one of the other members of Cabin _Neun_ , Rouzet, who burst in and quick took stock of the situation. The Frenchman ripped the blankets out of the thief’s hand and tossed them at David on the floor, before hauling the thief out the door by his collar. David stayed on the floor trying to catch his breath.

“Good job, Web,” Rouzet said when he returned, offering David a hand up. Rouzet was far from fluent in English, but he was picking it up quickly since getting captured. Lowery and Webster had taught him a lot since Webster’s arrival, and once Lowery died, Rouzet and Webster had grown closer. “Camp will not try to steal from us again. If Germans caught him he would not be so lucky.”

David snorted in agreement. The Germans occasionally warned against thieving, not that any prisoner had much to be stolen. Sometimes they would catch a man and use him as an example. It was an unspoken agreement among the prisoners to handle things in-house, often violently. A beaten man would think twice before stealing from his fellow prisoner, and at least was alive at the end of the beating.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ 

David was cold, hungry, and bored. There had only been one meal today, and he was just trying to kill time before he could fall asleep and eat again tomorrow. It was too cold to be outside for long, but there was nothing to do inside the cabin. Men would often visit other cabins to talk, but David had little interest in that. It was too much work trying to ingratiate himself in new groups, and walk the minefield that was prison politics. Instead, Webster just stuck with Rouzet and the other men in his cabin.

Webster laid on his bunk, shivering and hungry, composing letters in his head.

_Dear Mom; It’s December now, and you probably have the tree up and the house decorated. There’s snow here; it’s very festive. I would kill for just one of your cookies and a mug of hot chocolate. If we’re lucky, the Red Cross will make another delivery to camp. We got actual real un-canned vegetables last week. It was amazing. I’m still shocked the Germans let us eat it instead of taking it all for themselves. I hope I’m home before next Christmas. I hope the war ends soon. I hope I don’t die here. I miss you._

_Dear Lowery; Rouz’s English is much better now. His jokes are worse though, since somebody tried teaching him about puns but clearly didn’t explain them well. I would love to find out who, but he’s being very tight-lipped about it. He thinks it’s funny. The food is still bad and there’s never enough to go around. Thank you for the socks. They haven’t given us any fuel in two weeks and the cabin is drafty. We keep trying to patch it with snow but it’s still so cold. I wish you were here. I wish you had made it just one more week. You would’ve been in that transfer with the rest of the British out of here. I miss you._

_Dear Captain Nixon; I overheard some news the other day from the guards. It seems all they do is gossip. They still don’t know I know German so they speak pretty freely, not that I have anyone to tell. Their forces are starting to get spread thin with fighting on two fronts. Judging by the small amount of food we get here, they’re rationing pretty strictly. I heard rumors of troop movements in Belgium. Foy, I think they said. Can you pass it on up to Sink? I want this war to end soon._

_Dear Hoob; There’s plenty of Lugers here, if you and Easy would just jump into Ludwigsburg to come get me out.Everytime I have to dig graves or latrines I think about digging foxholes with you. Never thought I’d miss that, but here we are. I hope the war is going better for you than it is for me. I hope you guys are warmer than we are. Does the company even know what happened to me? I wish I was with you guys wherever you are._

_Dear Doc; My leg is healed up pretty well. I guess I was pretty lucky. It still aches sometimes, but at least it never got infected like I knew you were concerned about. I’ve done nothing but rest it so it healed up quick. I’m glad you’re not here, but it sure would make communicating with Rouz easier. Whenever he gets too excited he forgets English and he’s no good at teaching French._

_Dear Bull; Thanks for making sure we all kept practicing our hand to hand combat. I’ve gotten into more than a few scraps here, even though I never go looking for it like some of the other guys. I’ve held my own well enough. The men here don’t respect pushovers. We could use your calming presence. You’re good with replacements. We get a lot of new guys here too, but with no clear lines of command there’s a lot of fighting going on._

_Dear Captain Winters; Where are you leading Easy to next? I hope it’s someplace nicer than this. I hope you’re spending winter and Christmas back in England, or France, or anywhere with warm beds and warm food. Do you even know that the Germans have me? I hope you don’t think I went AWOL. You’re a good leader and I would never let you down that way. Instead I just let you down by getting captured without a fight._

_Dear Liebgott; I hope you never end up in a camp like this. Your mouth would get you shot the first day. Kill some Krauts for me, will you._

David was jolted out of his thoughts by Rouzet climbing up into his bunk.

“Scoot, Web.”

David scooted.

Rouz crawled under Webster’s threadbare blanket and added his equally threadbare blanket on top. They had taken to sharing a bed most nights to conserve heat, and they weren’t the only ones. None of the prisoners were accorded any sort of cold weather gear except a thin blanket, an extra pair of wool socks, and whatever they had arrived in. Hats were currently the most valuable commodity in camp by far. Webster had no hat. The log cabins were so cold without any fuel provided for the small camp stove inside. Webster had never been so cold in his entire life. He really hoped Easy was somewhere warmer.

Web and Rouz got comfortable and as warm as they could be. The cabin slowly descended into silence as the rest of the men got in bed and fell asleep as well. As the cold winter night wind whistled through holes in the log walls, Webster composed one last letter in his head.

_My Dearest Adolf; Fuck you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one today, but the next will be up in a few days!
> 
> Comments are super appreciated :)


	4. January 20th, 1945, Stalag Prisoner Camp, Ludwigsberg, Germany

Christmas and the New Year had come and gone, and David was again cold and hungry. The Red Cross had arranged for socks, chocolate, and smokes to be delivered to the members of the camp on Christmas Day. The men had celebrated by teaching each other songs in different languages. It was often hard to get along, with men from so many different countries and backgrounds, but for once everyone had felt united, and the spirits were as high as they had ever been.

Webster leaned against Rouzet, curled under his arm, as they watched their bunkmates gamble with a deck of cards for pebbles. Nobody was dumb enough to gamble for anything of real value. It only took losing one too many of your meagre possessions to turn any man off.

“Rouz, Web, either of you want to get in on this?” one of the men asked, waving the deck of cards at them.

David shook his head while Rouz snorted. “No. Do not think I do not see you cheating.”

The man gasped in mock offense, but before he could properly protest, the door was kicked open.

“ _Achtung!”_ The shout was in German, but all the inmates of the prison had learned what that word meant very quickly. The men on the floor dropped their cards and scrambled to stand at attention against the wall while Rouzet and David jumped off their bunk to take their place in the lineup.

“Webster, David Kenyon, of the 101 Airborne USA will present himself for transfer.”

Hope swelled in David’s chest. Transfer? He was going to be set free? Maybe his family had gotten a ransom letter and paid for his release. He hadn’t been here as long as others so it shouldn’t be his turn for an exchange. Then again, he did keep his head down and did what he was told. That’s what that first Kraut he had met, those three months ago, had promised. 

David stepped forwards. The guard looked him over, and nodded. “You have one minute. Gather your things,” he told David, then stepped outside.

Everyone let out the breath they were holding. Rouzet laughed. “Web, my friend, I am so happy for you. Do not forget us out there, yes? You will tell your commander our names?”

The men in his cabin had made a pact, like most of the other cabins. They had memorized each other’s names and units in the hopes that if they ever got out they could provide information to each other’s families and units.

“Of course I will. I won’t forget any of you.” David pulled off his thin fingerless gloves and gave them to Rouzet. “Look me up when it’s your turn to get out.” David shook hands with his bunkmates, then gave Rouzet a quick but hard hug. He was going to miss the Frenchman, but was ecstatic to leave. 

David left the log house for the last time and nodded to the guard. It was early afternoon, the sky bright blue and cold. It was a good day.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

David was concerned. They had driven southwest for a few hours, which he had been very happy about. He could tell they were getting closer to the line. There had been checkpoints and troops all over the road. But then they stopped in a small town named Rastatt. He had been pushed into a windowless room and the door locked behind him. That was, by his best guess, a few hours ago.

It was hard to track time without the sun, but Webster had spent so many days at the Stalag just sitting around, and he was fairly confident in his internal clock.The transfer must be taking place in the morning, he thought. It was odd there wasn’t anyone else with him getting exchanged though. It normally happened in batches. Web settled in to wait. His stomach was sharp with hunger pains, but he was used to getting by on too little food and it was barely noticable. 

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ 

Webster was jolted awake early in the morning by the door being thrown open. The Kraut that startled him tossed him a small canteen and a can of meat. Webster quickly scarfed it down while the Kraut loomed. It didn’t bother him anymore. He was so used to the camp guards lurking and staring, it was instinct to duck his head and only focus on eating.

As soon as he was done, the guard waved Webster out of his cell. As David passed him, his arms were grabbed and quickly tied behind him with rough rope. He hadn’t been planning on running, and he had been fully cooperative, so he wasn’t really sure why the Krauts thought it was necessary now. The German grabbed his elbow and marched him into the next building over. There, another Kraut was waiting with a small smile.

“You are David Webster of Easy Company? The 101st Airborne?” The graying man stood to greet them.

“Yes, sir I am.”

“Excellent!” The man’s smile widened to show just a few too many teeth. David felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. “Please, David, have a seat. I do apologize about the restraints. It is policy.” Webster slowly made his way to sit on the stool on the other side of the table across from the Kraut. The German leaned against the table and twisted a large gaudy ring on his finger. 

“My name is Otto Lehr. What can you tell me about Captain Winters and Colonel Sink.”

Oh. It was this kind of transfer. Not a release.

Webster swallowed thickly. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything, sir.”

Lehr hummed. “I am afraid that is not an acceptable answer.” 

He made a small motion with his hand, and the stool was pulled out from underneath David, dumping him on the floor. Before he could get up, the Kraut guard jerked him into a kneeling position. Webster shifted his weight, but the guard just gripped his shoulders more firmly.

Lehr smiled at Webster. He stalked up to the bound private and loomed over him for a beat. Webster didn’t blink, just stared up at the man.

Lehr’s hand flashed out and backhanded Webster in the face. It stung, and Web could feel blood oozing out his cheek. Lehr’s ring had cut him.

Lehr took his ring off. It resembled a class ring and had a red stone in the middle. He picked up a cloth and cleaned it. “What weapons does the battalion carry?”

Webster smirked. “How would I know? I’ve been locked up for the last few months.”

Lehr put the ring back on and slapped him again. 

“What are the names of the other officers?”

“I’ve forgotten them all”

Lehr looked down at Webster. He drew back his foot and kicked him in the stomach. Webster doubled over, gasping to get his breath back.

“What are the passwords?”

“Again, it’s been months. I wouldn’t know.”

Lehr grabbed his hair in one hand and wrenched his face back up, before punching him. “Then tell me what they were.”

That one hurt. It had made Webster bite his tongue. He was done with talking now. Web gathered up the blood in his mouth and spit on Lehr’s nicely polished boots.

It was silent for a beat before Lehr kicked him again. A couple of times. David just curled up on the floor and tucked his head the best he could into his shoulders. There was nothing else he could do. Even if he _was_ willing to talk, he hadn’t seen Easy in months. What little information he had would be wildly out of date. 

When Lehr stopped his assault, David stayed huddled on the floor gasping in pain, trying to catch his breath. Then he was grabbed and forced to his knees again.

“One word from you and this will stop,” Lehr told him softly.

David sneered.

Lehr tisked.

A cloth bag was pulled over his head and he was dragged blindly across the room. The fear and panic rushing through him took over. He kicked out at the guards, and was punished with a teeth rattling shake.

He was lifted up by his arms and pushed forwards. He struggled, to no avail.

His head went under water.

He was pulled out and pushed in over and over until David thought he would never catch his breath again.

He was pulled out, the hood was yanked off his head, and released. He collapsed shakily to the floor in a wet heap, chest heaving for air. 

_“Take him and put him in the pen. We will revisit this again later.”_ Lehr crouched down to Webster. “David,” he crooned softly, caressing his bloodied, wet cheek, “This does not need to be difficult. It is just a few questions. I will let you rest while you remember what the answers are. We will talk again soon.”

Webster was hauled out another door to the outside and thrown into a pen. Much like Ludwigsberg, it was lined with a double layer of barbed wire fence. This pen, however, was small, with a very small lean-to over a wooden pallet that would provide some small relief from the cold wind. 

David knee-walked his way over to the lean-to. The guards had not removed the bindings around his wrists, and he doubted they were planning on it. He collapsed onto the pallet, breathing heavily and shivering, thankful at least he would not be laying on the bare dirt.

He had never thought he would miss the prisoner camp. There at least, he had four walls, a blanket, and Rouzet. David knew this was only going to get worse.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ 

True to his word, Lehr did visit him again later that day. Webster, being an infantryman, had used the time to sleep a bit, though his arms were sore from being immoble for so long.

Lehr’s visit was a near repeat of the earlier interrogation, though thankfully without the dunking. His ribs were punched and his legs kicked at. Webster didn’t even bother with the snark this time. The only noise he made was grunts. He had no doubt Lehr would eventually get him crying and screaming, but he was determined to make him work for it. He was going to make Easy proud. 

When Lehr was done roughing him up, one of the pen guards stepped in. David eyed him warily, but all the Kraut did was painfully grab his arm and cut the rope binding him. The knife left a small nick on his arm.

Webster winced as he slowly rubbed feeling back into his arms. The blood rushing back was almost as painful as his bruised face. When he got his arms working again he took stock of himself.

David was definitely going to have a black eye, if it wasn’t bruising already. The cut on his cheek had already stopped bleeding. He was pretty sure his ribs were only bruised, not broken, but they really hurt. He was feeling better than he expected, after two interrogations.

That would not last.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

The next morning, Webster was greeted with a small loaf of bread and a canteen of water. It wasn’t a lot of food, but it was something. Lehr wouldn’t want him starving to death before he got answers out of him. 

To his surprise, Webster was left alone the entire day. He was slowly winding himself up with anticipation, wondering when Lehr was going to come back for more. When a Kraut guard poured a bucket of water into an old wooden trough, however, David couldn’t stop the fear that raced through him. After an hour of twitching at every slammed door and errant shout, he started to settle down and the familiar boredom set back in.

He couldn’t even distract himself by watching the activity in the German camp, as his pen was clearly on the outskirts. 

He briefly entertained the thought of trying to escape, but there were three armed guards watching him, and the double layer of barbed wire meant it wouldn’t be a quick wall hop, not to mention he had no idea where Amy allied forces were. David would wait and see if a good opportunity would arise to make a run for it. The activity he saw the other day in camp made him think they were fairly close to the line. He’d just have to hope.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Webster was jerked out of his sleep. For a quick beat, he couldn’t tell what had woken him. Then he registered the sound of distant shelling. He was definitely close to the line. It had been months since he slept in a combat zone, and his body was not used to it. He wondered if it was Easy calling in the strikes. He doubted it. What were the odds they were anywhere near Rastatt.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Leher came to Webster the next day. This time, he brought a cane. Lehr gave him a few dunkings, quickly followed by more bruises and welts. Webster gave him nothing but yelps and a few swears.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

The following day, Lehr brought two canes, and handed them both off to the guards. This time, he started right away with a beating before asking his questions. David refused to say a word.

“How long can you keep this silence, my dear David? Is there not anything you wish to say to me?”

“Go to hell.”

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

The fifth day Webster was left alone again. He had been hit pretty hard on his head the day before, and he was worried he had a concussion. It made focusing on his thoughts a little difficult, but David did his best to rally himself. He had to prepare himself for Lehr’s next visit. It was getting hard to keep his silence. He knew that soon he was going to be crying out more than he had been, and David was determined to not give the Krauts a single piece of information, no matter how out of date and useless.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

The next time Lehr stopped by, he brought a belt in addition to the canes. Webster struggled, but the guards managed to wrestle him out of his jacket and shirts and onto his knees, and tied him up to a post in the middle of the pen. 

The belt was far worse than just the canes, David thought. His mind felt all wobbly. He didn’t know if it was from the beatings, or if the even smaller rations and the cold was finally catching up. When Lehr asked him yet another question, to David’s horror, he felt his mouth opening.

Lehr held up his hand to stop the beating and leaned forwards, eyes gleaming in anticipation.

David had to say something. He couldn’t stop himself.

“David Webster, Private, 12 261 521”

Lehr’s face darkened. The belt hit again and again.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

The next day was more of the same. Lehr stopped by twice, and David felt woozy at the end of their meeting. He somehow managed to crawl back to the lean-to when they were done, and gathered enough wits to go to the food when it was provided. As he laid curled on his side chewing that day’s allotment of dried meat, watching the clouds, he wondered if he was going to die here. 

This was the last place he wanted to die. David wished the shrapnel had gotten him in his neck instead of his leg. That way his family would at least have a body to mourn. Or he could’ve gotten pneumonia like Lowery, and died in the camp. Then his name would’ve been in the roster, and maybe found one day. He doubted his presence here was in any written record. The Germans had broken the Geneva Convention left and right when it came to him. They wouldn’t want it known. 

David coughed. It hurt to breathe a little. He was glad he had decided to start reciting his name and number while he was more in control of his mind. It gave him something to focus on while he was being beaten, and hopefully the repetition would carry over when he was too far gone to think. That’s what Captain Nixon had told them to do if they were ever captured, all those months ago in England. David missed England.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

The next time Lehr showed up, he had exchanged his belt for a thinner leather whip. Webster was once again wrestled out of all his top layers. He put up less of a fight. He couldn’t find the strength.

The whip was horrible. David could feel the skin on his back stinging with each strike. It did not take long before he started feeling the sticky warmth of his blood rolling down his back.

David screamed

“12 261 521”

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Webster didn’t know where Lehr was. It made him nervous when the Kraut was not around. He came on such an irregular schedule, and it made David sick with the fear and anticipation.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

The next time he was given food, he was also gifted a small blanket by a pitying German. It was not very warm, but it helped make up for most of his shirts being ripped. All David really had left was his paratrooper jacket. He was so cold.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Lehr came back with the whip again. It opened up shallow lines all over David’s back.

David was barely aware of the beating. He could hear screaming and wished it would stop. David couldn’t tell, but Lehr was no longer bothering to ask questions. He was just having fun now.

David’s throat was sore.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

A doctor came. David thought it was a doctor. David had a fever and it was hard to concentrate.

The doctor gave David a shot of something. He hoped it was a syrette of morphine.

David was floaty.

He blinked and realized Lehr was sitting with him. At least he thought it was Lehr. Or was it Lowery? He blinked and Lowery was in front of him.

“Thought you were dead,” David managed to croak out.

Lowery chuckled. “Not yet, my dear David.” That was not Lowery. Lowery didn’t sound like that. What was he doing with a knife?

David screamed as the knife carved shallow patterns into his skin.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Whatever the doctor was giving Webster, it made him feel even floatier. Was that a word? David was feeling floatier. Like the clouds. It was cold. He wanted to go home. He wanted whoever was mumbling to stop so he could sleep. David fell asleep listening to the quiet sound.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Why was Hoob there? David smiled and reached a shaky hand towards his friend. 

“Hoob. It’s good to see you. What took you so long?”

“ _His fever is gone for now. It’s the drugs making him like this. I promised you they would make him talk, but I also warned you that he may not say anything you wanted to hear.”_

Webster frowned. “Hoob, when did you learn German? Did Liebgott teach you?”

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

In one of his increasingly rare moments of lucidity, David wondered where Easy was.


	5. February 6th, 1945, Haguenau, France

At that moment, certain members of Easy company were crowded into a basement in a building in Haguenau, France. They had just completed a successful prisoner snatch across the Rhine, and were waiting on the MPs to arrive.

“Please, please do not leave me alone with the other two!” One of the Krauts begged in heavily accented English. “I have information for you but they will kill me.”

The other two Germans were already grabbing at the third’s arm and yelling.

“Separate them until the MPs get here!” Malarkey shouted over the noise of the Germans. 

Popeye and Liebgott grabbed the English speaking one and pulled him to the other side of the room while Garcia and Babe shoved the other two back with their rifles

“Please, I must speak to your commander! I have important information!” 

“Yea?” Liebgott scoffed “And why should we believe anything you have to say?”

“I hate the Nazis. They killed my wife’s family. I have been a clerk for months now. I have been gathering information to bring to the Allies in the hopes they will let me move to America. Please, believe me. There is nothing left for me here.”

Popeye and Liebgott looked at each other in disbelief. The gall of this Kraut, begging for his life, ready to betray his people so quickly. Whatever. This wasn’t Liebgott’s problem. 

“Jackson,” he called, “go get the MPs and tell them we’ve got the Krauts. And let the Captains know one wants to talk.”

Liebgott sneered at the Kraut cowering at his feet. The officers would deal with this nonsense. 

♠️♠️♠️♠️

Dick could feel a headache coming on. “This could be a trap.”

“I know,” admitted Nixon, “but brass is inclined to believe him. I guess they’ve heard about this guy before. They just haven’t been able to find him yet.”

Dick thought for a minute. “I don’t want an NCO leading this, Jones had no experience, and Spiers probably has Lipton’s pneumonia.”

“He’s not going to appreciate being left out of this.”

Winters sighed. “I know. He can lead the distraction force. That way he’s not crossing the river and crawling through snow. He’s coughing too much anyway, he’d be too loud.”

“So who’s going to lead them across?” Nixon asked. Winters looked sideways at him. “ Oh, Sink’s not going to like that, Dick.”

“Colonel Sink is too busy showing off his new German prisoners. By the time he gets word of it, it’ll be too late. Besides, he told me that he trusts me to take care of it. If he didn’t want me leading it, he should’ve specified.”

Nixon huffed a laugh. “Long as you get back in one piece, you probably have a good argument. There really is nobody else to lead this.”

Winters took in a long breath. “Let’s go brief the men.”

Dick surveyed the men in front of him. He had briefed Spiers and Jones on the operation first. Spiers wasn’t completely happy with the plan, but understood with his illness and the lack of experienced officers there wasn’t much choice. 

“You men did a great job with the prisoner snatch yesterday,” Winters started. “They got some good intel off the Germans. The Colonel wants us to do a similar mission tonight.” He paused as the men visibly drooped. “The brass has been fairly convinced that there is an American captive just across the Rhine about 20 miles north.”

He stopped again as the men gasped and looked at each other, faces darkening in anger. “We have no visual confirmation, but certain details lead the command to believe the report. We don’t know how long he’s been there, what, if any, details have been shared with the Germans, nor do we even know his name.”

Winters nodded to Nixon to spread the map on the table.

“Here’s the plan.”

The plan was simple, in theory. Easy Company would get driven most of the way, then left to walk the last few miles as the Germans had also been sending patrols across the line.

Captain Winters would lead the strike force across the Rhine. With Winters would go Jones, to get him some experience, Martin, Liebgott, Luz, Babe, Garcia, Shifty, McClung, and Perconte. Doc Roe would wait at the crossing on the east side of the Rhine in case there were any major injuries, as the condition of the American was unknown. 

Spiers, who was both stubborn and not too sick yet, insisted on being involved and his group would provide the distraction from the West bank. Dog and Fox company would be dispatched to try to clear the area between Seltz, France, and Hagenau. The rest of the battalion would be left to hold Haugenau. The Germans were getting a little aggressive and boats had been spotted on their side of the Rhine.

Winters and his men would cross the river in boats at night. They had a general idea where the man might be held, based off other towns the battalion had liberated that held a few Allied captives that were waiting to get moved out. As soon as they had the man, or men, in hand, Luz would call in artillery strikes to cover their retreat back across the river.

The less complicated a plan, the less could go wrong.

The men going in were comforted by the fact Winters would be leading them. It was a small group, and it would be disastrous if they were caught, but the Captain had gotten them out of many tight spots before.

“Get some sleep. We start at oh one hundred.”

♠️♠️♠️♠️

This time, they managed to get across the river without tipping any boats. It helped that Cobb wasn’t here. He probably tipped it on purpose.

Liebgott halted as Winters held up his hand. The squad crouched low and held their breath as a Kraut patrol walked by, arguing quietly in German. 

They crept on.

Winters led them on a wide path skirting the town. They were fairly sure the pen would be near the back. Somewhere out of the way, but still hard to escape from.

They slunk towards a small fire.

There.

That was it.

Liebgott was disgusted. It was clearly a repurposed, reinforced pig pen. It even still had the little shelter he’d seen on plenty of Dutch and French farms. He could make out a dark shape huddled in the shadow of the lean-to.

“Shifty, take the one on the right. McClung, on the left. Wait on my signal,” Winters breathed, and aimed at the one in the middle. “Wait for the next artillery strike, then shoot,” 

The platoons left behind were firing the occasional round at the opposite bank. They were hampered by only being able to target places they could clearly see, so there would be no accidental friendly fire.

They heard the whine of an incoming round.

It hit, as did all three bullets. The Krauts dropped to the ground.

The squad waited a moment, to see if anyone would notice. 

“Let’s go,” whispered Winters.

They crawled up to the fence and Perconte clipped it while Jones, Martin, Garcia, and Babe watched their surroundings. 

Winters and Liebgott crawled to the lean-to.

There was a man sleeping there, shivering under a blanket.

Liebgott crept up to him to see if he could be woken. The man’s face was badly bruised, with dirt and dried blood smeared over the top. His long unkempt hair flopped in his face. The jacket he was half under and half wearing was dirty, but was clearly American.

“He’s American, sir,” Liebgott whispered to Winters.

“Can you wake him?” Winters asked, crouched on the side of the lean-to, one eye on Liebgott and the other on their surroundings.

Liebgott turned back to the man and covered his mouth with a hand. The other hand gently shook his shoulder. The man moaned quietly and started muttering softly.

“I think he’s out of it, Captain.”

“Alright. Grab him and let’s get out of here.”

Liebgott lowered his rifle, and pulled the shivering man out of the lean-to. Between the moon and the flickering fire, he could make out a private’s ensignia. He pulled the jacket around the man and hefted him up on his shoulders. 

“You got him?”

“Yea, he ain’t too heavy.” Joe knew he was pretty skinny, but the man on his back was light. 

Winters and Liebgott made their way back, doubled over. Winters nodded to the men, and they fell back to where Luz, McClung, and Shfty were waiting. 

“Call it in, Luz,” the Captain ordered. 

Luz nodded and whispered for a strike into the radio. The squad had ten minutes to get out of range before the rest of the company started raining artillery down on the town. 

Luz looked at the man draped over Liebgott’s shoulders and paled. “Captain… that’s… that’s a paratrooper’s jacket.”

Winters looked where Luz was staring. There, underneath the dirt, was the screaming eagle patch. It was too dark and too dirty to make out the battalion number.

Dick’s face darkened. Either this man was a member of the 101st, or he had gotten the jacket off of one. He wanted answers. “Let’s just get across the river. We don’t have much time.”

Luz swallowed and nodded. 

The men kept moving around the small town, pausing at every noise. It reminded Dick of Normandy, lost behind enemy lines, trying to find their company. The man draped over Liebgott’s back occasionally made quiet mutters and mumbles, but thankfully he wasn’t loud enough to alert anyone. 

Perconte and Babe both offered to take the man from Liebgott, but he was light enough, and Lieb didn’t want to take the time to switch off. They needed to hurry.

They were getting close to the crossing when their ten minutes was up. As soon as they heard the first shell coming in, they ducked back under the small bridge crossing the ditch they were walking in. Winters wanted to make sure they weren’t in the line of fire before they finished the last stretch to the Rhine. 

They were so close to the river. 

The shell hit the town they had just left. 

The man on Liebgott’s shoulders flinched when it hit and started mumbling again. Luz looked at him worriedly. 

Lieb turned his head to try to make out the mumbling. 

“12261… it’s not Rouz 12… 12… 2615…”

Lieb wanted to hit something. 

Winters waved the all clear and they dashed the last 30 yards to the boats. Joe eased the man into the boat before slipping in. As they crossed the river, he wondered who he was. Was he a veteran of D-Day? How long did the Krauts have him? Was he one of the many many missing men from Normandy?

He sighed a relief as they reached the western shore. This time, he hauled the man up onto Perconte’s shoulders, and helped them up the bank. 

Roe and Nixon popped up out of the dark. 

“How’s he doin’?” The Doc whispered. 

“He’s fine for now. Let’s get up to the safe house so we can get some light.” 

Roe nodded and led the way. Easy had found a farmhouse a ways back from the river and set themselves up there. A few men under Lipton had been left to guard and get it ready. It was a bit of a hike, but it was behind the line and away from where Easy was shelling from. They would stop in a few hours, head south towards Haguenau, then double back and go to the farm. Dick was worried that the Germans would cross the Rhine too and wanted Easy hidden well while they were separated from the rest of the Battalion. 

After a fast hike through the woods, they finally reached the farm. Liebgott had taken the man back after Perconte had turned his ankle fifteen minutes in and had almost dropped the private. 

The man had mumbled on and off the whole time. 

Doc Roe led Liebgott, Winters, and Nixon to a small bedroom off the kitchen. The curtains were drawn and a lamp had been limp. 

As Liebgott eased the man off his shoulders he finally got a good look at his face. 

The color drained from Liebgott’s face. 

“Liebgott?” Nixon asked, “you alright?”

It was hard to tell for sure under the bruises and mud and blood.

“Shit,” he breathed. 

“615.. 21…” the man’s head lolled to the side. “Pri… Web…”

“It’s Webster,” Lieb said flatly. “How is it Webster. I…” it was getting hard to breathe. 

Roe looked up from where he was leaning over the bed, working the jacket off. “Sit, Liebgott,” he ordered forcefully. “I ain’t got time for you to pass out, now.”

Lieb staggered back until his back hit the wall and he slid down, putting his head between his knees. Webster died almost four months ago. It couldn’t be him. They just had the same name, and the same hair color, and the same jaw line, and the same jacket…

“Doc, his tags,” he heard Nixon say. 

“Get him turned over first, I gotta see his back.”

He heard some gasps and looked up. 

He wished he hadn’t. 

Not-Web’s back was criss-crossed with lines and welts and bruises. Most looked only days old. 

He looked back down and listened to the sounds of Doc cleaning them. 

“Some of these need stitches, but I can’t give him anything until he comes around. These need to be closed up before they get infected.”

He heard Winters and Nixon move so they could hold down Not-Web if it was needed. 

It was not needed. 

He moaned as the needle pierced him but didn’t fight it. He did turn his head back towards Liebgott. 

Liebgott looked up and met Not-Web’s unfocused eyes. It was the same color. 

“Please… don’t know anything…” Webster cried a little more clearly. “Stop… won’t tell… 12...2...61...52...1.”

Liebgott swallowed and inched closer to the bed. He grasped the hand that was dangling off the edge, and gently touched the top of Web’s head with his other. 

“It’s okay, Web,” he said roughly. “You’re safe now. We’ve got you. The Doc’s just fixing you up. You’re safe now.” 

Webster blinked at him, clearly struggling to focus. “Rouz? That you?”

Rouz? Who the hell was Rouz? Maybe this really wasn’t Web after all. A quick tug on the tags showed what Lieb already knew. “Nah Web, it’s Liebgott. I got the Captains Winters and Nixon here too.” 

“Told you, Rouz. Your turn.” Webster mumbled and fell back asleep, less restless this time. 

Roe quickly finished working on his back, while Lieb held on to Web’s hand and kept stroking his hair. 

“How did we not know he was alive?” Dick asked Nixon quietly. Leibgott and Roe both glanced at him, clearly wondering the same. 

“The Jeep he was in was pretty well destroyed,” Nixon said. “As were the bodies inside it. The report said the, uh, pieces were pretty burnt and they couldn’t make a positive ID. He was officially declared MIA, presumed dead, but they were pretty sure. Maybe he got thrown out and wandered into a German patrol? I have no idea.”

Dick nodded, thinking. “Liebgott, Roe, I know this is a lot to ask but for now I need you two to keep quiet about Webster. Just until he wakes up and can tell us what happened. I don’t want the men distracted worrying about this.”

Roe nodded. “What’s going to happen to him?”

Nixon sighed. “I have to talk to him and get anything he can tell us. Then, I really don’t know. Depends on how bad off he is I guess. The brass assumed he was an officer. None of us expected…”

The room fell silent as Roe fixed up Web.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Joe looked up at a moan. He had been taking his turn sitting with Web while the Doc got some sleep. It had only been an hour since he went off to nap, and Lieb didn’t want to wake him unless it was necessary. 

He rushed to Web’s side. “Web, you with us?”

Webster blinked at Lieb. “Rouz?”

Rouz again. Who the fuck was Rouz. 

“No it’s Lieb. We got you out, Web.”

Webster looked confused. Consternated, even. “Oh.”

Liebgott didn’t think Webster was all there. His gaze was still a little cloudy. Roe had said he might be out of it for a while. 

“Web?”

“Tell Rouz I’ll be fine. Not like…” Web trailed off as he fell back asleep. 

What the fuck.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Gene looked up as Babe plopped himself down next to him. 

“Hey Gene,” he said, “you alright?”

Gene nodded. “Yea-yea I’m alright.” 

He wasn’t alright. What had happened with Webster really shook him. He had seen so much death and blood but this was pure cruelty. It hurt to see. 

“Any word on the guy we rescued?”

“None yet. Fever should break soon.”

Babe just nodded, watching him closely. Gene knew he was fishing for details. There were rumors going around already that he was a paratrooper, that he was a general, that he was a spy who got too close to Hitler. But Winters had asked him to keep quiet on Web’s identity for now, and Gene had agreed readily. 

Webster roused himself a few times throughout the night and into the next day, but clearly didn’t have any idea where he was. 

The Doc said it wasn’t unusual, with a fever. Liebgott tried talking to him each time, but it had no effect. Lieb was tired. He wanted to leave, but he needed to stay even more. And not just because Web sometimes mumbled in German. Nixon wanted Liebgott there in case Web said anything important, but it was mostly mutters about socks, of all things. And pleading for food. 

It was hard to listen to.

The rest of Easy, along with a newly returned Harry Welsh, had rejoined them in the early morning around dawn. They had been forced to hunker down at the farm, as it seemed the Krauts had taken exceptions to Easy’s forays across the river and were doing the same in a number of crossings. There were reports of German platoons roaming the countryside. The line was stretched thin and everyone was worried about being surrounded again, like in Bastogne. Easy had three possible fall-back locations noted on the map already. 

Liebgott sat in the chair next to Webster’s bed. Doc Roe had been there for a short while, but was called away to tend to one of the replacements who sliced his hand on his bayonet. Replacements. 

He looked up as Captain Winters came in. 

“Sir,” he greeted, not bothering to stand. 

“Here, Lieb,” Winters handed him a tin of nuts. “Thanks for helping the Doc out with Webster. He said his fever’s starting to break and he should be more coherent next time he wakes up.”

Liebgott took the offering with a quiet thanks. Winters scrubbed his hand through his hair and sighed. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, a shell landed. It wasn’t very close to the farm, but it was close enough to rattle the windows and give off a loud boom. Winters and Liebgott only twitched a little bit, but Webster jumped. 

As soon as the shell hit, it woke Webster up with a jolt of fear and adrenaline. Liebgott stood up, but before he or Winters could reach Webster, he sat up, got tangled in the blanket, and fell onto the floor with a thump. 

Dick hurried around the bed and crouched in front of him. 

“Webster?”

Webster looked up, saw Dick, and paled so quickly Dick was afraid he was going to pass out. Web scuttled back until he hit the corner. Hard. 

“No,” he breathed. “No, you’re dead, you can’t be here.”

“Web?” Dick crouched in front of him. “David? It’s Winters”

Liebgott swallowed heavily as Webster moaned and shook his head quickly. 

David’s eyes darted around, trying to focus and get his bearings. This had to be another trick. He was seeing things again. Lehr must’ve injected him again and now he’s seeing ghosts. 

He flinched back as Lowery reached towards him. Lowery’s mouth was moving, but David couldn’t hear anything over the loud roaring in his ears. 

Lowery was dead. He was pretty sure Lowery was dead. He wanted Rouzet. 

His vision was swarming and he still couldn’t hear. The panic must’ve shown on his face, as Lowery backed off a little. 

David tried to calm down. He blinked, and tried to get his eyes to focus better. He attempted to slow his breathing a little bit. 

Lowery stopped swimming so much. That didn’t quite look like Lowery.

The roaring in his ears receded some and he could make out muffled voices saying his name. 

Behind maybe-Lowery, a second face swam into view. That-that face didn’t belong here. Those sharp angles almost looked like-

“L-Lieb?” David blinked a few more times and Lowery’s face morphed into Winter’s. “Captain?”

Dick breathed a sigh of relief as the man curled up in front of him started to calm down and recognize where he was. 

“Yea, Web.”

Web blinked in utter confusion. “But, what?”

Dick reached slowly towards David, ready to pull back at any sign of distress. He heard Liebgott quietly slip out the door, presumably to get Roe. 

“Here,” he said softly, “let’s get you off the floor. 

Dick carefully pulled up David and eased him back onto the bed, watching his face closely. David’s eyes were darting around, glancing at Dick’s face before looking away again. It was pretty obvious he was trying to not meet his eyes.

Dick realized David was trembling minutely. He moved to try to look in David’s eyes, but David ducked his head. “David,” he started, before getting interrupted by the arrival of Roe and Liebgott.

Webster flinched a little bit as the door reopened. The Doc and Lieb came in, and that was better than just him and Winters. Even though he hadn’t known the man more than a few weeks, and it had been months since his death, all he saw while looking at the Captain was Lowery. It was disturbing.

Winters must’ve sensed his unease, as he patted David’s foot and stood up with a quiet, “I’m going to let Nixon know you’re awake.”

Liebgott paused by the edge of the bed while Roe rummaged through his medic bag. “You alright, Web?” He could clearly read the anxiety that must’ve shown on his face. “You want me to step out too? Don’t want to crowd you.”

Webster gave a sharp shake of his head. The Doc was nice enough, but he trusted Lieb. Despite all their arguments and spats, there was something that kept drawing them close. They had a bond.

Webster submitted to Roe’s gentle commands and soft touches, and slowly calmed and mostly stopped trembling. The anxiety ramped back up a bit, though, when Roe went to check his back.

It was too quiet in the room, but David didn’t feel like talking. He felt a little better than he had in weeks, but he was still groggy and very confused.

“What,” he croaked out, before licking his lips and trying again. “What happened? How did you find me? I don’t-”

Liebgott and Roe shared a quick glance. Lieb shifted to sit on the bed and looked down at his hands, a little uncomfortable. 

“Well, uh, we thought you were dead, Web. We-the jeep was pretty burnt up and uh, I guess there were, you know, pieces, and they were pretty burnt up too, and the MPs said everyone on it was dead and so. We had no idea you...” 

Fuck.

Webster wasn’t really surprised, but he had hoped the Germans had sent word that he was alive in a camp. 

Instead, Easy assumed he was dead, maybe mourned for a few minutes, and moved on. Just like he did when Klink and Lowery and all those replacements died. That didn’t explain his rescue, however.

“Then how- how’d you know where I was?”

Liebgott glanced at David and looked away again, licking his lips. “We didn’t. The other day we snatched a couple of Krauts some miles from here. One said that there was an American across the river, being uh, questioned. The brass ordered a rescue.” Liebgott intentionally left out that command had assumed it was an officer being interrogated. He sort of thought that if they had known it was a private, they wouldn’t have sent Easy in to extract him.

Liebgott continued, “We didn’t know it was you. God, David, you were the last person I expected to see.” He turned to fully face Web, angry. “If I had any idea you were there, I’da stormed that place and killed all the Krauts myself.”

Webster glanced at Lieb, and reached for his sleeve. He needed to touch him, to reassure himself this was real. That he was safe and free now. Liebgott shifted up to sit closer, and twisted his arm so David could grip it.

The Captains opened up the door and slipped inside, followed by a dark-haired man Webster didn’t recognize. Winters looked towards Roe. “How’s he doing, Doc?”

Roe was just finishing up his treatment of Webster’s back. “Couple a bruised ribs. I don’t think they’re too cracked. Careful with your back, Webster. Keep it clean and don’t work it too hard. It’ll still scar, but not too much if you take care a it. And I know it won’t be easy, but don’t overeat. You gotta start small and work ya way back up. I’ll get you some oatmeal or something light.” 

Webster nodded in assent. He didn’t have much of an appetite these days anyway.

“Thanks, Doc.”

Roe nodded at the officers on his way out. “Sirs.”

Winters glanced at where Webster was gripping on to Liebgott, and Liebgott’s mulish face. This was likely going to be a hard conversation and it wouldn’t hurt for him to have some support, as long as Lieb could keep his cool. 

“Are you ready for this conversation, Webster? Liebgott can stay if you want.” Winter felt bad for making him do this right when he woke up, but it was better to get it while it was as fresh as possible and any information still relevant. 

Webster swallowed and nodded. It was best to get it over with. “Lieb can stay.”

Winters gave Liebgott a look that was very clearly understood by both men as “behave yourself.”

Liebgott gave Winters a sharp nod back. He could contain himself until it was over. Web shouldn’t have to do this alone.

“In your,” Winters hesitated for a half a beat, “absence, Webster, there were a few changes. This is Captain Spiers, the new commanding officer of Easy. I was promoted to battalion, although we’re separated from most of the battalion right now. It’s just Easy here. The Germans have crossed the river between us and command, so we’re hunkering down here. They haven’t spotted us yet and we’re not too worried, but that means we’re all stuck here for a bit yet.”

“Sir,” Web nodded to his new commander. He was relieved that Winters was still in charge. He trusted him. He really hoped the Germans didn’t find their little base. Now that he was free, the thought of getting sent back to the prisoner camp terrified him.

The officers got settled. Winters and Nixon both sat down, Nixon at a small desk against the wall and pulled out papers and a pen. Spiers leaned against the wall. Liebgott gently nudged David over until they were both sitting on the bed against the headboard, Webster mindful of his bandaged back. He kept his hand twisted in Liebgott’s sleeve.

“So Webster,” Nixon started after he twisted the desk and chair around so he could look at Web while he wrote. “I need you to tell us what happened, starting from after you were injured at Arnhem. As many details as you can. Names, locations, dates, anything you can think of. If you need to take a break, just let us know. If you can’t remember something, that’s fine, we can always circle back.”

Webster started all those months ago, at the battle with the company of SS near Arnhem, with getting shrapnel in his leg. He told them what actually happened at the jeep, and how there was another survivor, somewhere, from Fox. He told them about the holding camp, and getting transported to the Stalag camp. He shied away from sharing much about his time at the camp, instead just mentioning the layout and that rations were tight.

He had to stop at times, to take a minute to catch his breath and collect his thoughts. Captain Winters had given him a canteen of water, and he used that to stall before moving on to Lehr. Nobody was fooled by his tactics, but they were all kind enough to not call him out on it.

Slowly, haltingly, he talked about Lehr. He was light on the details of his beatings, though the evidence was obvious on his skin. He told them what he could remember of the camp, and the weapons and troops he saw. When he mentioned that he was given a drug to make him talk, all three officer’s mouths twisted.

He assured them he didn’t give the Germans anything. 

“We know, David,” Winters assured him. “You were pretty out of it when we found you. You did well. I’m real proud of you.”

Webster nodded, his face down. He still preferred not looking directly at Captain Winters, though he knew he’d need to get over it.

Captain Nixon followed it up by asking questions. A lot of questions. Most Webster didn’t have answers to, as there were a lot about names and numbers. Other stuff, like the rumors of troop movements in Foy, were probably months out of date. 

Then Nixon asked a question Webster wasn’t expecting.

“Who are Lowery and Rouz?”

Webster’s surprise must’ve shown on his face because Nixon added, “You mentioned them a few times when you were feverish. Are they friends from home?”

Webster shook his head bleakly. “No. They were my friends at the camp. Lowery got sick and died a few weeks after I got there. Rouz- Rouzet- was still there when I left. I-I promised my cabin I’d get word to their families and COs. The only news we got was when a new batch of people came in. I- others are probably pronounced dead too.”

Nixon frowned, but quickly jotted down the names Webster listed off and promised him that he’d look into it.

A thought occurred to David.

“Sir,” he started, “How long- what day is it? I-I lost track”

Nixon and Winters glanced at each other, then back to him. “February 6th, Web,” Winters answered quietly. “We think you were in Rastatt for two weeks. It’s been four months since Arnhem.”

Four months. Four months wasted. Four months starving and freezing for nothing. Four months watching men around him die. Four months wondering who, if any, in his company was still alive.

Fuck.

The room fell silent. Nobody seemed to know what to say next. Webster continued to avoid looking anyone in the eyes, although the gaze of Winters and Speirs felt heavy. He couldn’t look at anyone right now, not after telling his story.

The knock on the door was quiet, but still caused Web to startle. 

“Yea,” Winters called, eyes never leaving Webster.

Roe poked his head in. “Got some oatmeal here for Webster.”

Winters nodded and finally looked away from David. “Anymore questions anyone?”

“I’ve got what I need. If you think of anything else, Web, come find me.” Nixon gathered his papers and stood up.

“Yes, sir.” Webster yawned. He was exhausted, even though it was still morning. He was finally warm and finally safe, and he just wanted to sleep again.

The officers filed out, Winters stopping in the doorway. “When you’re done eating, take a nap. I’ll let the men know you’re okay. They’ll all be real glad to see you, Web.”

Webster took the bowl of oatmeal, and under the matching frowns of Roe and Liebgott, managed to get down two thirds of it before it was too much. He felt his eyes drooping closed and before he knew it, he was asleep again.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️ 

The officers ducked into the room Winters was using as an office.

“What do you think, Nix?”

“Well, I think regiment is going to be happy it was Webster and not some officer that might’ve known something important.”

“I’d like to know how the Germans got close enough to hit a jeep and take two people behind our line without anyone knowing,” Spiers added.

Dick sighed and rubbed his fingers through his hair. “Yea. We can’t keep having these holes.” He turned to Spiers. “I’d like to brief Easy on this. I also need the area scouted. We’ll need fall-back positions if we can’t link up with the rest of the battalion soon.”

Spiers nodded. “Yes sir.”

Dick nodded at them, and let them into the room the men were using as a mess. Most of Easy was already gathered there, and the few that weren’t quick hurried in at Lipton’s call.

Dick surveyed his men. “I have a quick update on what happened the other day, then Captain Spiers is going to order a couple of patrols.” He paused to glance at his officers, who knew about Webster already, and Shifty and Luz, who he thought likely suspected.

“Our rescue mission was a success, as you know. We were just waiting for him to wake up so we could talk.” Dick had to make far too many announcements about those who had died. He had never had to make one about a man who was alive. “It- it turned out to be David Webster.” He paused again as the men made noises of shock. Some stood up in anger.

Luz closed his eyes in pain. He had known something had happened, but the last thing he had expected was Web. He would’ve been less surprised to hear it had been Dike they had pulled out.

Dick waited as the noise quickly settled again. “He’s been in a POW camp the last four months. I know we’re all glad he’s alive but don’t crowd him.” He surveyed his men once more. They all looked outraged on Webster’s behalf.

Dick nodded at Spiers to take over, and went to try to get in contact with Colonel Sink over the radio again.

Spiers stepped forwards. “I need three patrols. Jones, Welsh, and Randleman, with me.”


	6. February 8th, 1945, near Hatten, France

David woke with a start, a cry dying in his throat. He had no recollection of his dream, but he could guess what it was about by the furious hammering in his chest. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was, but being warm for the first time in four months helped him remember. He slowly sat up.

“If it ain’t sleeping beauty himself. How ya doing, Web?”

David felt his lips curling into a smile despite himself. “Hey, Luz.”

Luz was taking his turn sitting in the chair at the foot of his bed. Roe had wanted someone there when Webster woke up, in case he panicked and needed to be reminded of where he was and that he was safe. Or in case he pulled his stitches or managed to hurt himself.

Luz studied Webster’s pale face closely, his dark eyes not giving anything away.

Seeing the paratrooper’s jacket across the river had really thrown Luz. He had had a bad feeling about their rescue mission, though he knew it was important. He had been certain someone would die during the rescue attempt. When he had recognized the patch on the prisoner, his misgivings had only grown. Even making it back across the river in one piece hadn’t lessened the feeling at all. Luz had stationed himself so he could see the bedroom door the prisoner had been taken into, and when Roe finally emerged, he could tell that the usually stoic doc was pretty rattled. Whoever it was, he knew it was bad. The sick feeling had stayed with him, until Captain Winters finally told them it was Webster.

When he was finally allowed in to sit with Web, he looked much different than Luz remembered him. His normally neat hair was limp and greasy. He was very pale and thin. His cheeks were sunken in and a yellow bruise was bright against his face. Now that Web was finally awake, Luz was relieved to see he knew where he was, but he was still concerned about his mental state.

Webster avoided meeting Luz’s eyes and glanced at the door instead.

“I should probably make an appearance out there soon, huh?”

Luz shrugged, making it look more casual than it really was. “When you’re ready.” Neither of them were ready to acknowledge the rather large elephant in the room. “Lucky Strike?”

Webster looked at the cigarette offered. “ _Please_.”

He took a long drag, eyes closed in pleasure, enjoying the way the smoke curled over his tongue. He had never been a heavy smoker, but it had been so long since his last one. It was amazing.

Luz smiled, watching his face. “That good huh?”

“Luz, I have not had the pleasure of a cigarette in months, let alone a Lucky Strike.”

Luz’s grin dimmed a little bit, but stayed fixed on his face.

“Glad to provide.”

The room fell to silence for a few minutes as both men enjoyed their smoke. 

“You my sitter today, Luz?” It was easier to feel safe and free in the light of day. David felt light for the first time in months. He hoped it would last.

Luz looked at him with a serious expression. “Winters didn’t want you to have to wake up alone yet.” A small smile returned to his face. “Besides, it got me out of scouting, so it’s a win in my book”

That was considerate of Captain Winters. David had had to admit, if he had woken up alone he might’ve panicked a little bit again until he realized where he was.

Webster finished his cigarette.

“Alright. I’m ready.”

Lipton had just finished putting together his sandwich when he heard a gasp from behind him. He looked up to see Webster hesitating in the doorway behind Luz.

“Webster,” he stood up from the table, the rest of the men following his lead. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hey sar-” Webster glanced at Lipton’s collar. “Lieutenant. Congrats.”

“Thanks.” Lipton shook Webster’s hand, sizing him up. He was far too skinny. Underneath the ugly yellow and black bruises, his face was pale and drawn. 

Lipton pushed the untouched sandwich on his plate towards Webster, who sighed, but didn’t argue. Everyone sat back down, Web and Luz taking the last two chairs.

It was clear that Webster was feeling uncomfortable, if the hunched shoulders and darting glances he kept shooting around him were of any indication. Lipton thought it looked like Web thought he was right on the front lines, in front of the Germans, instead of in the kitchen of a safehouse. Lipton turned to Luz, and with a forced casualness nobody felt, started an idle conversation.

By the time Webster had forced down almost half the sandwich, most of Easy, except those out on patrol, had cycled through the dining room, ostensibly for a cup of coffee, but really to take a look. David had kept his head down, only his eyes darting up every time someone had come in. Johnny Martin, who had taken a seat on the other side of Webster, glared into submission anyone who paused to gawk for too long.

There had been a number of people Webster didn’t recognize. And there had been a number of people he had expected to see that didn’t show up.

He was afraid he already knew the answer, but had to ask anyway.

“Lip,” he croaked, the first thing he had said since sitting down, “Where’s Hoob?”

The room went completely silent.

Lipton traded a quick glance with Johnny.

“Sorry, Web.” Lipton was tired of telling men their friend had died. 

“Who else?”

“Julian, Muck and Penkala. Couple of replacements. Guarnere and Toye lost a leg each but are fine. Compton got sent off for trench foot.” 

Lipton watched as a brief look of pain passed across Webster’s face before settling into a blank mask. It was eerie, seeing the normally friendly and open man showing no emotion. The oppressive silence in the room was only broken a few minutes later, when a patrol returned, crowing about a couple of Germans they had gotten the jump on. Webster lowered his head, letting his too-long hair fall back over his face.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Liebgott was worried about Webster. It had been two days since he had woken up the first time, and he was very quiet and withdrawn. He barely talked, barely ate. Doc Roe and Lipton had to all but force him to eat what they put on his place. Webster never sought out food on his own, but would make at least an attempt to eat if it was given to him with a firm look. 

He wanted the old Webster back. The Webster that was always willing to engage him in whatever dumb argument Liebgott could goad him into. Joe wasn’t going to rest until he got Web to yell at him.

Joe watched from across the room as Luz regaled the replacements with tales of Sobel. Luz was putting on quite the performance, complete with very accurate impressions. Even Webster was watching with a slight smile on his face, and judging by Luz’s excessive peacocking, that had been his goal.

Web was in good hands for now. Joe had some things he needed to get ready. He slipped out of the room, not noticing Webster’s eyes following him as he left.

“Hey, Web.”

“Liebgott.”

“C’mere a second.”

“Why?”

“Come on.” Lebgott tugged at Web’s arm until he stood. Webster sighed, but followed him, as they both knew he would. Webster always followed Liebgott.

He led him into what had used to be a bathroom before half the village got levelled.

“Let me cut your hair, Web. Get it all prettied up again.”

Webster looked at the chair and the basin stand full of water. He knew that Liebgott would never hurt him, but standing water made him a little nervous now.

Liebgott waited in silence with more patience than David thought he had while he worried at his lip. His hair _was_ a limp, stringy, disaster. It would be nice to get it fixed.

“Alright.”

It was the most, well, _intimate_ haircut David had ever had. Lieb’s hands were soft and gentle as they ran slowly through David’s hair. David shook a little bit and his breath hitched when Liebgott slowly tipped his head back to wash his hair, but he was slow and careful and the water was warm and the dried blood and dirt that was still caked in there was finally gone and it was nothing like what had happened with _him_ and he finally felt clean for the first time in two months since the camp guards said it was too much work to heat snow for anything but a quick wash down and there hadn’t been enough fuel to wash his hair anyway so-

He was brought out of his spiraling thoughts as Liebgott righted him with a small smirk, and took his scissors to his hair.

With each lock that fell away, David felt lighter. He would be alright with time.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Liebgott was frustrated. He needed an enemy he could actually fight, but they were still playing cat-and-mouse with the Germans while they tried to link up with the rest of the battalion. They were on radio silence until they could figure out where the Krauts were hiding out, but all they would find is the occasional patrol to exchange fire with before both sides withdrew, not wanting to get drawn into another trap.

It was slow and frustrating for everyone involved.

To make it worse, Webster was still jumpy.

Joe knew he wouldn’t just be back to normal right away, but it was still so hard watching the man flinch at noises and jump whenever he was startled. It was as bad as the replacements, but worse since the war wasn’t new to Web. 

On top of all that, the new lieutenant was getting on his nerves. Granted, Jones was nowhere near as bad as Dike, but he was too cautious and slow to make decisions. Easy needed more combat officers, not green West Pointers.

Joe stalked around the garden outside the farmhouse they were stationed at. He wanted to check in on Webster, but was worried he’d scare him in this state. He was tired of seeing that cowed look on Webster’s face. Tired of watching him flinch when he was startled.

“So he gets roughed up by a couple of Germans and now everybody is falling over themselves for him? The rest of us spent two months freezing in a foxhole getting shot at while he sat around on his ass and nobody else is crying about it.”

Liebgott rounded the corner to see Cobb with an almost empty bottle of wine in his hand, talking to a very uncomfortable-looking Jackson who was standing guard, while Martin sat with his back to them a few yards away, stripping his gun apart to clean it.

Lebgott stormed up to Cobb. “The fuck did you just say?” 

Jackson took one quick look at Lieb’s face and took a few steps to the side and turned back to his watch over the empty field. Smart kid.

It was probably only because Cobb was well on his way to being drunk that he stepped up to meet Joe. “I said you’re all fawning over Webster and it’s sickening. He probably told the Krauts everything they wanted to know and more.”

Lieb bared his teeth in a predatory smile and shoved Cobb, making him stagger back a step.

Cobb dropped the wine bottle to the ground and took a wild swing at Liebgott, who ducked under it with ease and launched himself at Cobb, taking them both to the grass.

Liebgott took an elbow to the mouth, splitting his lip, but it was well worth it to finally pummel Cobb. He was so sick of the man’s poor attitude. He was always whining and complaining, and got out of Normandy and the prisoner snatch. Even the new Lieutenant was braver than Cobb.

Martin let them fight it out for a minute, then stepped in before Liebgott got out of hand.

“That’s enough, now, Lieb,” he said quietly, pulling on the back of Joe’s jacket to haul him off Cobb.

Liebgott snarled at Cobb on the ground, letting himself get pulled back. Martin looked cooly at Cobb panting on the ground and pointedly did not offer him a hand up.

Cobb sat up and pointed at Joe. “He jumped me, Johnny!”

“You should be careful, Cobb, falling down like that,” Martin drawled, and turned his back again, lightly shoving Liebgott in the direction of the farmhouse. “Wouldn’t want you to get too hurt.”

Cobb looked at Martin, who had clearly put him on ignore, then Jackson, who was still resolutely looking out into the field.

Liebgott winked at Cobb and headed back towards the house. He was ready to face Webster now.

Webster was field stripping his new rifle. Spiers had gotten his hands on a German rifle and had given Webster his own to use. David was on light duty only, and working on the gun gave his hands something to do in his downtime, and it helped to get him refamiliarized with it. While he was now very practiced with being idle, he didn’t particularly enjoy it.

He looked up as Liebgott walked in, a self-assured smirk dancing on his face. His normally red lips were even brighter from a sluggish bleeding split.

Liebgott plopped himself on the floor next to Webster.

“You’re bleeding there, Liebgott.”

David knew he was staring at Joe’s mouth, but couldn’t look away as Liebgott grinned at him and licked his lip a few times as the blood stopped welling up.

David dragged his eyes away, focusing back on his task, his face oddly warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Luz demanded a bigger part, and who am I to deny?
> 
> It's looking like there will probably be two, maybe three chapters left. I'm still working on the next one, so it might be a little longer, but I will get it up as soon as I can!


	7. February 10th, 1945, near Haguenau, France

Easy had spent the last two nights on the move. They were headed back southwest towards the battalion headquarters. Each day, more and more Germans were flushed out of hiding, but the allies had no idea how many had actually made it across the river. They were stretched pretty thin yet still, and the lines were very porous. Captain Winters only wanted the Company moving mostly after dark when they were less likely to be spotted, and it was slow going.

Webster had settled back into the routine of being a private on the front lines well enough, though he was still a little jumpy, and the lack of sleep was only making everything worse. He was relieved when Spiers had announced they were going to spend the night in the barn they had moved to that afternoon, and were expected to link back up with the battalion the next morning.

Webster had claimed a quiet corner for himself, Luz close by. Liebgott was on watch, but Web knew he would likely join them when he got off. Liebgott had been sticking pretty close to him since Easy had found him, and Webster was happy about it. Before, he would’ve found it stifling, but now, he found it a little comforting. Liebgott still picked at him some, but it was more light-hearted than it had ever been before, and he had stayed far from any topic that would’ve actually bothered David.

David settled himself into the hay, letting the familiar sounds of Easy settle over him. It helped reassure his brain that he was safe here, no longer alone or in the camp. David was slowly believing it more and more every day.

Unfortunately, the belief did not carry itself over into his dreams.

Not long after he drifted off, he started twitching and mumbling in a low voice. It woke Luz up, though he couldn’t identify why he had woken, until he heard a gasped “please.”

Luz looked over to where Web was sleeping. He had a scared look on his face, and his feet and hands were twitching. He was breathing heavily.

Joe Toye had had a bad nightmare a few days before he had gotten wounded. Luz suspected that Web would need the same support he had given Joe, and judging by the looks he had seen between them, he knew who would be best to provide that comfort.

Luz checked his watch. It was almost time for him to take watch anyway. He made his way quietly to the barn’s door.

Liebgott turned in surprise as Luz slid out the barn door to join him.

He glanced at his watch. “You’re early, Luz.”

Luz shrugged and pulled out a cigarette. “Couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d let you off early.” He lit the cigarette, and watching Libgott out of the corner of his eyes, said casually. “Web’s having nightmares again.” He hid his knowing smile as Liebgott frowned and turned to look back at the barn.

“You and Web have gotten close.”

Lieb’s head snapped back towards Luz and scowled defensively. “Yea? So what?”

Luz shrugged again and kept his face looking out towards the town in the distance. “So nothing. Winters and Nixon are real close. Toye and I were real close too.” Joe’s absence still ached. Luz took another drag of his cigarette. “Most of the Company don’t seem to care too much ‘long as it stays outta sight.” He felt Lieb studying him closely. They stood in silence for a minute. 

Luz looked at Liebgott and jerked his head back to the barn. “Like I said, Web’s having a nightmare. He’s in the back corner.”

Lieb looked at Luz a moment longer before giving a determined nod. He clapped Luz on the shoulder in thanks and disappeared into the barn. 

Luz turned back to his sentry duty. Idiots, the both of them.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Liebgott quietly made his way to the back corner where Luz said Web was sleeping. Joe doubted he’d get any more sleep tonight with everything he had to think about. The knews about Toye and Luz was unexpected, but not actually that surprising. And he had already known Winters and Nixon were involved. The whole Company could clearly see that the two men were closer than most, though nobody ever said anything about it. The Captains were quiet about it, but the looks they gave each other said a lot.

Lieb hoped he wasn’t that obvious when he looked at Web.

When he found Webster, the man was curled up tight, twitching in his sleep. Joe crouched next to him, and reached to run his fingers through his hair.

“Please,” Web was whispering so quiet Joe could barely hear him. “Please stop. Bitte.” 

Web was begging for mercy in his sleep.

Joe clenched his jaw, then laid down to curl himself around Web. “Shh, David, you’re safe.” He whispered reassurances to Web while he rubbed his thumbs across Web’s tightly balled fists. Soon, but not as quick as Joe would have liked, Web’s fists loosened. His body relaxed and he stopped mumbling. David fell into a better sleep, and holding him close, Joe soon followed.

The next morning, David woke to find Liebgott spooning him. It was nice. Even though he knew he shouldn’t want it, he did. He couldn’t help it. David would’ve been happy to lie there all morning, but the camp was just starting to stir and they’d be moving out in an hour or so. Reluctantly, he started to extract himself from the embrace.

David was just lacing up his boots when he heard a sleepy, “Morning, Web.” 

He looked up to see Liebgott sprawled out on the hay, running his hand through his sleep-tousled hair. David felt his face flush and he quickly went back to focusing on his boots. “Liebgott.”

Joe smirked and sat up. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine,” his voice was a little higher than he’d like, and he cleared his throat and tried again. “Just fine, thanks.”

Joe’s smirk faded into a small, but genuine smile. “Good. Glad I could help.”

David could only gape at him. He wasn’t exactly displeased by what he thought just happened, just thrown by it all. Before he could figure out how he was supposed to respond to that, he was saved by Spier’s holler for them to gather around. With one last bewildered glance at Liebgott, he jumped up and hurried, but definitely not retreated, to Lipton’s side. They had a short march, then David would have to finally answer to the brass.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

The march was short, but that didn’t stop them from stumbling across one of the remaining companies of Germans early in the morning. Easy had intended to just skirt around the couple of houses off their path, but a sniper hiding in a window meant they had to go into the tiny hamlet before they were all picked off.

At the first shot, which luckily hadn’t managed to hit anyone, Webster had frozen. Liebgott, who had been kind enough to give David the illusion of space without actually managing to leave him alone, grabbed his arm and hauled him behind a garden wall with the rest of Easy.

Webster’s face was pale, and he reminded Joe of the replacements the first time they got their first taste of combat. But as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t stop to make sure Web would get it together. He had to provide support and covering fire while others advanced. He allowed himself a quick, worried glance before he lined up a Kraut in his sights.

While David’s mind was too full of fear and adrenaline to think, his body remembered what to do. As soon as Bull patted him on the shoulder to follow him along a hedgerow for a better angle, he let the training take over. He crouch-ran around to the side of a building and started firing, making sure he was never separated from the group. Not again. He kept his head down, his gun up, and Germans in his sights, and before he knew it the Germans had been routed. 

While David was spared the tedious task of helping to clear each house room by room, he was not spared from more of Doc Roe’s mothering. Twice a day, the Doc had herded Webster into a sideroom and demanded to see his back. He wanted to make sure it was being kept clean and dry and Webster hadn’t done anything to pull the stitches. Although he was out now, he had been putting some salve on it that he said should help with the scarring. 

While a part of him was uncomfortable with the fussing, the part of him that had missed Easy like a lost limb had found it reassuring. He had worried that Roe would treat him differently from seeing the marks of his treatment first hand, but he had also seen how the medic fussed over Lipton’s pneumonia and all the day to day injuries the men of Easy managed to collect. 

When the town was cleared, Easy resumed their march with only a grazed arm and a few scratches from their encounter. Once again, luck had been on their side.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Once they arrived at the new battalion headquarters, they found it bursting with American reinforcements. Easy was sent in to get some fresh food, restock up on ammo, and take a breather. It should have been a relief to no longer be on the front lines, but Webster had been grabbed by Spiers and brought along to the CP. There, he was dumped into a side room ro wait along with Lieutenant Jones while the Captains Winters, Nixons, and Spiers went in to make their reports.

The Lieutenant had attempted to make smalltalk with David, but neither man really knew what to say and they soon fell into an awkward silence. David was content to sit quietly and wait, but Jones was still antsy after the action they had seen earlier, and was feeling a little impatient. He started idly tapping the back of his hand against the desk he was sitting at. It was loud in the silent room and David jumped at the noise.

The sound was oddly familiar and gave him a weird feeling before he was able to place it. Jones had a West Point ring on. The sound it made on the table sounded like Lehr’s ring did that first day. Just the same as it did right before his head was forced underwater.

Jones kept idly tapping the table, ignorant of Webster’s growing discomfort.

While David knew he wasn’t back there, as he cast his eyes around the room, it started reminding him of that room that first day. There was the heavy oak desk, the wooden chairs, the similar patterned wallpaper. The sensation of not knowing what was going to happen to him next.

His skin started crawling and he felt lightheaded. Maybe it was because he hadn’t eaten very much that morning, to the Doc’s displeasure. The bitter taste of adrenaline filled his mouth again, but with not having a tangible cause, it only made him more anxious.

The sound of a slammed door and raised voices made him violently flinch, finally drawing the attention of Jones. The Lieutenant went to stand up, not really knowing what he was going to do. The harsh sound of his chair scraping back made Webster suck in a shaky breath, but before Jones could get more than halfway out of his seat, the door to the room was flung open with a bang. Webster jumped again and squeezed his eyes shut tight. His chest felt tight and he could only take quick, shallow breaths. His hands trembled, though he didn’t notice. The Captains Nixon and Spiers paused in the doorway as they took in the scene. Jones was stood at attention with a bewildered expression and Webster was curled in on himself on his chair. Both men could tell exactly what was going on. They had both been at Bastogne and they both had seen similar postures from men before.

The Captains shared a brief glance, then Nixon turned to Jones and said, “The Colonel wants to see you,” and dismissed him with a jerk of his head.

“Yes sir,” Jones was happy to leave that room, and at the doorway took what would be his last look at the men. Captain Nixon was crouched next to the Private, and Captain Speirs was keeping his face carefully blank as he held a deliberately non-threatening stance. It was a bit odd to see on Spiers. 

Jones shook his head and went to go find Colonel Sink, and what would turn out to be his promotion out of Easy.

“Webster. Hey, David.”

Web blinked, surprised to see Captain Nixon crouched in front of him. When did he get here? He looked past Nixon to see Spiers watching them, looking almost concerned while trying not to look concerned. Or something. His head felt heavy.

David somehow managed to get his feet underneath him and slowly got himself upright, Nixon backing off as he did so.

“Sirs,” he managed in a raspy voice.

Nixon, who was not able to hide his worry as well as Spiers, said, “This room is hideous. Let’s step outside for some fresh air.”

Webster nodded and fell into step behind them, Spiers at his back. Normally he would be pleased to have Easy’s commander watching his back, but right now it just made his neck prickle and his skin crawl. He took deep breaths to try to fight off the feeling as they made their way outside.

They stopped under an alcove over a blown out shopfront set back off the main road and out of the way. Nixon offered Webster a cigarette, who took it with a still shaking hand. Now that they were out of that room away from Jones, he was already feeling a little calmer and was embarrassed by his reaction.

Neither of the men said anything about it.

After a minute of silently smoking while David recentered himself in the present, Nixon shifted uneasily.

“Listen, David,” he began, immediately making David apprehensive again from the use of his first name. “We talked to Sink and told him what you told us. He said since you managed to remember lots of details for us he’s not going to make you go over it all again, but uh-” he trailed off, at a loss for words.

“Sink said he can’t send you home,” Spiers broke in bluntly. “Said unless you’re wounded or deemed unfit, the rules still say you have to get enough points. They haven’t made an exception yet for anyone taken by the enemy. I’m sorry, Webster.”

Webster just nodded. He had made his peace with the fact he was probably going to die in the Stalag camp months ago, and the hope he had for release had been ripped away by Lehr. He had thought he was going to die in that old pigpen and hadn’t allowed himself to think otherwise, even when Easy got him out. He was completely unsurprised the Army was going to keep him and he honestly hadn’t allowed himself to consider any other option. 

“I know it's a small consolation, but I did talk Sink into trying to get you some points for it, plus the points for your Purple Heart you’ve been awarded,” Nixon added awkwardly.

His Purple Heart. Right. Well at least he’d get a medal for the beatings, he thought bitterly. David just gave another sharp nod and took a drag of his cigarette. He found himself avoiding looking at the officers. It wasn’t their fault, but he couldn’t help being a little angry at them. But mostly he was just tired. So very tired.

“I can transfer you to a more administrative unit, to get you out of combat,” Spiers offered. “I’m owed a number of favors.”

“No!” David almost shouted, surprising himself as well as the others. “No, I’d rather stay with Easy, if it’s all the same,” he continued at a more reasonable volume. “Stay with the men.”

Spiers gave David a small smile and clapped him on the shoulder. “Glad to hear it. Why don’t you go find the men and let them know we’ll be moving off the line in an hour. And send Lipton my way if you see him.”

“Yes sir,” Webster nodded to his officers, and went to hunt down Easy, feeling their eyes on him until he rounded the corner

David’s skin was still crawling and he could feel the eyes of everyone he passed on him. He could tell that every conversation just beyond his hearing was about him. Every glance from each trooper on the road only proved that everyone knew what had happened to him. Everyone knew how pathetic and weak he was. The Sergeants were telling their platoons that if they got wounded they would be picked up by the Germans and tortured too. That he was a failure and deserved what he got and he wasn’t even allowed to go home until he earned it.

None of that was true, of course, and while David knew it on one level, the rest of his mind was trying to convince him otherwise. The incident in the room had left him anxious and distressed.

When he finally found where Easy had gathered, he could’ve cried with relief. He ducked his head and tried to make his way around the group without being noticed, but Lipton spotted him.

Lip frowned at Webster’s drawn face. “You alright Web?”

David gave the Lieutenant a quick nod. “Yessir. Captain Speirs wants you back at the CP.”

Lipton studied Web a moment more, not liking the color of his face, before relenting. “Alright. Make sure you grab a bite to eat.” 

David nodded again, and once Lip left, he pulled his helmet further down on his head, flipped up his collar, and slunk through the Company until he found a corner he could hide in.

He sat with his back against a wall and his knees folded up to his chest. The corner he was sitting in was formed by a short flight of steps leading into a building where the food Lipton mentioned was. Although he knew he should eat, the smell of the beef soup only made him feel ill. His appetite was still small these days.

David leaned his head back against the wall, and listened to the coming and going of the members of Easy. The shouts and laughter of men who knew they were safe and finally back some ways from the front line helped ground him. He wanted both to be alone but couldn’t handle the thought of being away from his Company again. It was the only time he really felt safe.

While he was curled up out of the way and somewhat out of sight, he wasn’t fully hidden. Martin and Bull had spotted him right away. Webster reminded them a little bit of Buck in the Ardennes. They were both worried, but neither had any idea how to help, and neither of them really wanted to talk about feelings, especially not with Webster. In unspoken agreement, they both positioned themselves so they were mostly blocking the sight of Webster from the road, while still giving him the space he clearly wanted.

Liebgott, on the other hand, had no such considerations for David’s desire for space. After a brief search, he found Web sitting against the stairs and went up to him, completely ignoring Bull and Martin.

“Hey, Web.”

David ignored him and kept his head leaning back against the wall.

Liebgott gently kicked his foot. “Web.”

“What?” Web sighed.

“Come on, they still got showers set up. You can get some of that grime off.”

A shower would be amazing. But an army shower where everyone could see David’s back and know what the Krauts had done to him, and confirm all the rumors that were already spreading around would not be amazing. It was bad enough that Easy knew as many details as they did, and it was bad enough that the Officers and the Doc had seen his back. The thought of dozens of strangers seeing him, especially after the morning he had already, made him feel sick. They were headed off the line and he could shower at the base.

“No.”

Liebgott was surprised. “What?”

“I said no. I’m fine.”

Lieb was obviously thrown by that. “Alright, have it your way. Did you eat yet? You gotta eat, Web.”

“Goddammit, Lieb, I’m fine,” David snapped, losing his patience. “Just lay off for once will you? You’re not my mother.”

Joe was taken aback, but quickly hid it under a sneer. “Jesus, Web no need to get all pissy. Sorry for checking in.” He did a quick about-face, and left Webster to his sulking.

Webster felt bad, but he was also feeling smothered. Liebgott had barely left him alone since Easy rescued him, and while it helped him feel safe, he also needed a little space sometimes. He stayed in his corner, left alone, until the order to get loaded into the trucks came. 

When David made way to the trucks, he was one of the last ones on. When he saw Liebgott sitting there, arms crossed, face hard, he felt guilty. He knew Lieb was only looking out for him and didn’t deserve his anger. David was only angry at himself. And the Nazis.

He hesitated at the back of the truck, knowing he should apologize but not really knowing how to say it. He looked up and met Joe’s eyes. Joe’s face softened, and he reached down to help David into the truck. His apology had been accepted.

The truck started forwards. As they traveled west, away from Hagenau, away from Rastatt, and away from Germany, each man there felt like they might make it through this war after all. They might yet make it home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really love Luz you guys.
> 
> Sorry it took so long! I've had to put in a lot of overtime for work but luckily that's slowing back down again. The next chapter won't take as long I promise!


	8. February 25th, 1945, U.S. Army Base in Metz, France

Back in France, Easy Company finally had the chance to relax for a little while. They would have a week or two of light duty and sorely-missed comforts before they were sent to help occupy the newly-conquered areas of Germany. Webster finally got his semi-private shower, and Easy finally got a full night’s sleep. The tide of war was changing, and everyone was beginning to hope that they might one day see home again.

Other than sending a telegram and a few letters home to tell his family he was actually alive, there wasn’t a lot for David to do. All of his personal effects had been shipped to his parents, and he had to spend almost an entire day dealing with bureaucracy and paperwork to get un-declared MIA and receive his back pay. 

Liebgott and he did manage to get a day of leave together, so they went into town and had some real food for a change. Though he grumbled a bit about it, Liebgott had also brought David to a small bookstore, and let David excitedly ramble on about this novel and that novel. David had been touched by the gesture, and Joe had enjoyed seeing David animated once more. It had been a good day.

The problem though, had been the tension. Both men had taken to revolving around each other. There were constant small touches, seeking reassurance the other was there, seeking attention, seeking affection. David was often distracted by Joe’s mouth, and Joe was preoccupied by David’s eyes.

It finally came to a head ten days in. Joe and David, along with a few others, had spent a free evening at a bar. They were both a little tipsy, and were determined to ignore the unspoken attraction between them.

They said goodbye to their drinking buddies and made their way to their cabin. Their bunkmates were either on leave or on duty and they knew they would be alone for the night. They got inside, kicked off their shoes, and looked at each other for a beat.

Joe lunged at David, pressing him up against the door, and kissed him. David allowed it for a few minutes, then pushed Joe onto the bed and fell on top of him. They rolled and kissed and bit and groped any bare skin they could find. Their frantic movements soon slowed to a more leisurely pace as they finally got what they had both wanted for a long, long time.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Their two weeks in France was too short, and nobody was happy to be leaving it. They were on their way to Munich, and from there, further into the now occupied Germany. Web was just happy that they might continue to stay off from fighting on the front lines for a while. Their break in France had helped lift morale, but Easy was still worn and tired.

Germany was beautiful, and Webster loathed every minute of it. He hated being back on the east side of the Rhine, he hated the Nazis for starting the war, and he hated Hitler for not surrendering even when half his country was occupied. The only good thing that came from this war was Liebgott. 

Watching the defeated Germans march past their convoy only filled him with disdain and he railed at them, hating how much this war had changed him. David was not a hateful man. He rarely got angry. Sure, he enjoyed a good heated debate, but that more about the intellectual enjoyment than a true fight. But the Nazis had changed that about him and he resented both them and himself.

When he finally ran out of steam, he flopped back down onto the bench, subtly pressing into Joe. Joe nudged his leg with his, and David sighed, drawing strength from the man sitting next to him as Easy made their way through the German countryside.

Stürzelberg was better. The only Germans left there were women and old men, and they kept out of the Allies way. It helped too, that David and Joe managed to claim an attic room for themselves. It was out of the way, and better yet, private. During the day they went on patrol and checked passports and attended Nixon’s lectures, and at night they fell into bed together. Neither had felt this good since before D-Day.

Their contentment would not last. Easy was on the move again, towards Landsberg.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Perconte ran through the streets, looking for any officer. He finally found Major Winters, and tried to explain the horror the patrol had found out in the woods.

“Sir, we found something, out on patrol. A- a prison or something. I’m not sure what it is. You gotta come see.”

Winters could see the seriousness on Perconte’s face and nodded. He turned to grab Speirs, and called for him to assemble him a squad. “And get a translator. Liebgott or Webster.”

Perconte surprised everyone by stopping Speirs with a hand on his arm. “Get Liebgott, sir, not Webster. It-he shouldn’t have to see this.” Speirs’ face darkened with the implication.

Perconte had just been trying to protect Webster from having to see another German prisoner camp, but if he had known what the camp was actually being used for, Frank wouldn’t have asked for Liebgott over Webster. For days after their discovery, Frank felt sick with guilt every time he saw Liebgott’s drawn, haunted face.

The camp haunted both David and Joe. In the dark they suffered from nightmares. They took turns holding and comforting each other. David spent most nights curled up on Joe’s chest, letting Joe hold him tight, pretending he didn’t notice the tears.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Bavaria was the most beautiful place Webster had ever seen. Once again, Joe and David had managed to claim a room all to themselves. Their platoon had quickly caught on to their new relationship, and nobody wanted to walk in on something they couldn’t unsee. 

Berchtesgaden turned into an easy posting for the men. David and Joe had taken advantage of the abundant wine and the lake and enjoyed each other. It made it easier to put what they had seen behind them, though neither would ever forget.

A few evenings later, Captain Speirs summoned Liebgott.

Liebgott walked into Speirs’ makeshift office. On the desk, there was a map of Bavaria, along with documents and a few pictures. Lieb knocked on the doorframe to announce himself, and Speirs ordered him to shut the door and join him.

The Captain got straight to the point.

“I think we found Otto Lehr.”

Joe froze and stared at his captain. He had spent many nights holding Webster as he dreamed about that SS Commander, and just as many nights wishing he could’ve put a bullet in his head that night they found Webster.

“How?” Liebgott croaked.

Speirs smirked and handed Liebgott two letters, both in German. “I have the translations, but I’d like you to take a look and see what you think.”

Liebgott took the papers and sat down in the chair Speirs gestured him at. While he was fluent in German, he was slow to read in it. As he made his way through the first letter, he felt sick.

_Obersturmbannführer Kuhn,_

_I will keep this letter brief, as I know you are a busy man, but I have potentially time sensitive information. The last we saw each other, you spoke of an American Company that has frustrated you first in Arnhem and later in the Ardennes. I have located a member of that company in one of our prisons. He is only a Private, but might have valuable information. You may recall the French Lieutenant I questioned a few weeks ago, who provided valuable intelligence about supply lines._

_I have only just started questioning the Private. I am confident he will soon be talking, as he seems soft, even for an American. Fear not, for I will learn all he has to give and then I will seek proper retribution for the loss of our men. I have also ensured I had all his prison records destroyed so he will not be missed once I am done with him. I will not allow there to be a repeat of the mess my predecessor made._

_Please tell the doctor that I will soon have more data on the effects of the drugs he wanted me to test. I am curious to see what the newest combination does._

_I will keep you informed of my progress. I am also enclosing a map of local troop movements. I believe we may soon be able to push the Americans further into France and control both sides of the Rhine._

_Hauptsturmführer Lehr_

Liebgott swallowed down his nausea, and turned to the next letter. It was dated only a few weeks ago, around the time they were arriving in Landsberg.

_Greta,_

_My Schutzstaffel keeps getting pushed back. We will soon be falling back to regroup. I have been summoned to Berchtesgaden by Brigadeführer Schellenberg himself. I will be continuing in my current line of work there. My cousin has a small cabin there I will be staying at. I will send for you once it is safe enough. Have faith in the Führer. Germany will prevail._

_Otto_

The handwriting was the same in both letters, and the first was clearly about Webster.

Liebgott took in a deep breath and met Speirs’ dark eyes.

“It’s him.”

Speirs nodded. “Oh-six hundred tomorrow morning, meet me at the motorpool. Don’t mention this to anyone.” He hesitated for a second, then added, “Webster won’t want to be there for this.” It wasn’t a question.

Liebgott felt a flash of dark satisfaction. “Yes sir. I’ll tell Webster he was found dead once it’s over.” That also wasn’t a question.

Speirs gave a sharp nod in agreement. “Dismissed.”

Liebgott gave his Captain a salute and turned on his heels. Once he was outside, he stopped to take a few deep breaths. He just needed to center himself before Webster saw him. Web was pretty perceptive, and Joe didn’t want to give him anything to suspect or worry about. He took some time to smoke a couple of cigarettes until he was sure of himself, then went to hunt down David and drag him off to eat dinner.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

The next morning, Joe carefully extracted himself from David’s octopus-like grip. David murmured a sleepy protest when Joe left their bed, but Joe calmed him with a hand and a quiet, “Speirs needs me for a patrol.” David grumbled but let go. Joe couldn’t help but smile at him fondly at him, and pressed a kiss to his forehead before slipping out the door.

Speirs was waiting for Liebgott in a Jeep. He nodded at his captain and slipped into the passenger seat. The two men drove off in search of a Nazi just as the the sky was begining to lighten before dawn.

The drive took a little over an hour. No words had been exchanged between the two. Speirs seemed to know where he was going, and Liebgott was keeping a look out. Even though the German army had surrendered, there was still a risk of Kraut soldiers firing at a single Allied Jeep. The drive, however, was uneventful, and they pulled up to a small cottage overlooking a beautiful valley.

Speirs and Liebgott crept up to the cottage. Speirs signaled to Lieb, and on his signal Lieb kicked in the front door.

Inside, a handsome German man was sitting at a table, just beginning his breakfast. He jumped when the door was slammed open and immediately stood up with his hands held out.

“Please do not hurt me,” he cried in English, before continuing in German. “Take whatever you want but please do not hurt me.”

Liebgott kept his gun trained on the Kraut while Speirs cleared the rest of the house.

“What is your name?” Liebgott asked in German.

“Ludwig Stein! I am Ludwig Stien! I have papers.” Speirs frowned and rooted through the drawer the Kruat pointed at. Inside were papers that were addressed to a Ludwig Stein, but there was nothing with a picture.

“Where is your passport?” Lieb asked him.

“I have none. Please, some Nazi members came by a few weeks ago and took it with many other of my things.”

Liebgott relayed this to Speirs, who was digging through the desk in the corner of the room. “That doesn’t sound right, but I’m not finding anything addressed to anyone else.”

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Liebgott asked.

“I was,” Speirs scowled. “Technically, if we can’t find anything that proves he’s at least a Nazi, we’re not allowed to touch him.”

Liebgott turned back to the German with a growl, who was watching him with wide, scared eyes. He certainly didn’t look like a man that could torture others. Even his hands were shaking.

Liebgott paused and looked at his hands again.

“Captain,” he called softly. Speirs looked up, alerted by Joe’s tone and moved closer, training his gun on the German.

“Let me see that ring,” Joe ordered.

“My-my ring?” He stammered. “You can have it, just please let me be.”

Joe looked at the ring. It was big and gaudy with red stone. It looked like a class ring. It looked just like the one Webster had whispered about one of those nights he couldn’t speak. He turned it over. Engraved inside were the letters O. H. L.

“It was my grandfather’s but you can have it” The man pleaded again, but Liebgott didn’t believe him.

“You are Otto Lehr?” he asked.

“No- no I told you I am-”

“I know what you said,” Lieb cut him off with a snarl. “You are Otto Lehr. I am a friend of David Webster. I know you.”

The man looked at him a moment longer, before giving up the ruse. He stopped cringing and straightened up. His hands lowered carefully to his side and he smiled slowly. It was a handsome smile, and it was the smile that haunted his Web’s sleep.

“Yes, I am Otto Lehr,” he admitted in English. “Tell me, how is our David these days? Does he still cry himself to sleep at night?”

Liebgott saw red and swung at Lehr’s face.

Lehr was a soldier, but he was no paratrooper.

Liebgott followed the punch with a lunge and took him down, crashing into the table. He smashed his fist over and over into Lehr until his knuckles hurt. He stopped his assault, panting heavily, and lifted himself off of Lehr, who was left bloodied on the floor. Speirs had said nothing, just watched darkly.

“David is the strongest man I know. You never broke him. Your leader is dead, your country is in ruins, David is thriving, and you just got beaten up by a Jew.” With that, Joe spit on Lehr and left the cottage, confident that Speirs would take care of the rest. He was content with the blood he had spilt. He lit up a cigarette and waited.

Sure enough, after a few moments a single gunshot echoed behind him. By the time Liebgott finished his Lucky Strike, Speirs had emerged from the cottage with a bag slung over his shoulders. The bag made a klinking noise and Liebgott eyed it suspiciously, but said nothing. He followed Speirs to the Jeep where he pulled out a can of gasoline.

“You want to burn it all down?” He offered the can and a matchbook to Lieb. Joe gave him a feral grin and got to work.

Watching the flames was surprisingly calming. It was certainly very satisfying.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Webster frowned as he caught sight of Liebgott’s bruised knuckles. 

“Joe,” he hissed. “What happened? What’d you do?”

Joe grinned at him. “Some idiot from I Company was talking shit about Easy. I set him straight is all.” 

That was actually true. He had been waiting while Captain Speirs reported that Lehr had been dead before they arrived when some replacement had walked past with a snide remark about the Captain. After all Speirs had done for them, and especially after that morning, Lieb wasn’t going to let that stand. He had broken his nose.

Joe loved Webster’s look of disapproval. 

Liebgott let his smile fall off his face. “Web, I gotta talk to you about something. C’mere.” He grabbed his arm and led him into a secluded alleyway.

“Joe,what-” Webster cut himself off as he let Lieb manhandle him. Joe carefully pressed him against the wall, shielding him from the rest of the world.

“Listen, Speirs got word, and I went to help confirm it. Lehr’s dead.”

Webster flinched and stared at him. “What-”

Liebgott worried at his lip while he watched David.

“I-are you sure?”

Liebgott slowly reached into his pocket and held out his hand to Webster. Web looked down to see that ruby ring sitting in his lover’s hand and turned away to dry heave.

“Web!” Lieb shoved the ring back in his pocket and reached out to David. David gasped for breath and straightened back up. He leaned against the wall and slowly slid to the ground. Joe quickly crouched down in front of him. “You with me, Web?”

“Yea,” Webster breathed and grabbed Joe’s arm in a tight grip. “Yea, Joe I’m fine. I just-I just wasn’t expecting to see that. He’s really dead.” Lieb gave him a tight nod. “I’m just glad he didn’t get away with it. I know I wasn’t the only one.”

Liebgott put his arm around David, letting him rest his head on his shoulder, and the two men just sat, trying to put their ghosts behind them. One got the closure he needed, and the other got the revenge he desired. The ring would stay with Liebgott, but always kept carefully out of Webster’s sight.

♠️ ♠️ ♠️ ♠️

David looked around himself, happy and content. He was surrounded by his brothers, everyone a little tipsy and in high-spirits. The war was finally, completely over. The waiting was over. They had their orders and would be making their journey west the next morning. Finally, home was no longer an abstract concept. Although they still had a few weeks of travel, between the train ride through Europe and the ship ride through the Atlantic, everyone felt a sense of urgency. Addresses and numbers were being exchanged and plans were already being made to meet up when they got stateside. 

Joe and David had already made their plans, in the gray light of a predawn one morning, after both had been woken by nightmares. They would both go home to their own families for a few months, then Liebgott would join Webster as he finished his last year at Harvard. After that, they would let life take them where it led, but they both were determined to stay together.

David made one last round through Easy saying all he had left to say to his brothers-in-arms, then let himself drift towards the edge of the crowd where his love waited for him. Joe grabbed his hand in silence, and led David to the secluded beach they had found a few weeks ago on the shores of the lake. Under the stars, with the Alps standing tall over them, they made love in Germany for the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it everyone! I hope it lived up to your expectations. This is the longest thing I wrote and I'm very proud I actually finished it. Thank you to everyone who commented, kudos-ed, and favorited. Seriously, every time I got an email about it I went and almost immediately wrote another 1000 words. I honestly don't know if I would've finished it without all the love you guys have given me <3


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